Lost Creek Hollow don't you weep and don't you worry

Her laugh soured him for only a moment, prompting his face to contort somewhere out of view from where he lingered off to her side. That soured state was not meant to remain, as Mordecai grasped at the emotions unspoken behind it. She had dealt with their poorly dealt hand for far longer than he had; she had tended to the injured and battered, she had ensured the survival of their children far more than even he was capable of. For a moment he could not quell the sense that somehow he had been selfish somewhere along the line, that somehow his own actions had spurred all that was into reality. And maybe somehow that was entirely the case, but all in all he settled on the notion that was all bad luck. They all got their run of it at some point or another and sometimes, some of them died as a result. But he was not entirely keen on having that happen, as he liked living a lot better than he did the sensation of dying.

Still, more troubling to him was the way she spoke of her gods. He had never once held a bad thought for the notion of religion, or whatever sort of social construct it provided. But then and there he could not help but carry that bitter taste in his mouth because in his eyes, it was as though all the blame was spiraling down and being placed on her. His own head shook, the action an absent dismissal that such a thing could ever be true. But he did not know, and even if it were the case—something he would not rule out, that this was some divine retribution—he wanted to believe there were more options for them.

"It isn't safe for either of us to scout for recruits," he pointed out, not that it needed any pointing done for them. "I don't want us to run that risk, not with the children. We haven't been able to bolster our numbers by just sitting here either, not with the turn of the season. If it has to follow us then I say let it follow, we can lead it somewhere it will regret." He wanted to draw them back from where they had come, where the packs were far less spread out and for them, their isolation was not as pronounced as it had become.

"You—we—can't begin to figure out what to do about this if all we can focus on is whether or not we're going to be torn apart. Or who will be next. We can't fight it either, we don't have the resources." Three adults, one of which was injured, and three infants that barely had a grasp on the world did not a well defended home make, something else he was certain she was aware of.