Blacktail Deer Plateau beguiling

He recoiled somewhat as he realized he'd spoken sharply, but it appeared no serious harm had been done. Day leaned forward to lick her cheek, ears slicked back in apology. "There was a famine," he replied, his voice a bit rough, "and wolves died. And then the winter came harsher than ever, just as we had begun to recover. And more wolves died."

They'd not all been wolves that he knew, and much of the sense of loss he associated with that time in his life had nothing to do with the seasons themselves - at times, had nothing to do with death at all. Truthfully, Grayday did his best not to dwell on those events, and these days, simply sought to keep his family as safe and warm and fed as he possibly could. The Spiritwalker was part of that, now, and the thought of her wearing away in the wintertime was more than he could compartmentalize.

"I don't want to talk about it," he realized, grimacing against the image of her wasted body that'd impressed itself upon the backs of his eyelids. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm just... worried, I guess." It was no excuse, but it was the truth.