Lost Creek Hollow forfeited

North. Says the ruined boy, and this catches his interest. It tells him these wolves have been moving from the south, from the summerlands, which is surprising since the seasons are transitioning. Why would they leave some place mild and easy? Tulimaq may be thoughtful internally but he does not voice any of his questions, and his attention evidently drifts away from the boy.

The warrior paces closer, looking over the body as he nears for signs of illness or injury beyond the scars and ugliness he has already seen; he considers lashing out and maybe that hostility flashes in his eyes, he has never been very good at hiding his intentions, but he chooses not to. There is no point in testing the fitness of this stranger. If Tulimaq wants to do that, it would be better — at least more of a challenge — to seek out this boy's people and test them instead. A game for another day, perhaps.

Are you hungry? The young man asks without a shift in his tone, and while his gaze drifts from the boy to the soil, he kicks at some dry leaves, paws at them lazily. I am new to these wilds myself, but I am an avid hunter. You will need your strength if you are to survive the north, with winter coming.