Ravensblood Forest it is the stones for altars

wintersbane's question earns the sotaherra a laugh and a correction. ah. by 'life debt' vonn does not mean children but recruitment to whomever he owes the life debt to. velveteen ears flutter back to rest at half mast as he considers his mistake with a sheepish expression stealing across his face. apologizing wasn't really wintersbane's style ( though it is known to happen on very rare occasions ) so he lets out a contemplative hum and says, and here i thought that the season wasn't affecting me. as more of a wisecrack than anything else. of course the season was going to affect him — he was finally of the age to produce children and being a father had been on his mind when he regarded the future for some time now.

the vartija was his priority; those other plans he had for his future would have to wait. the timing was just bad at the current moment: winter, breeding season and trying to get a foundling pack to plant it's roots; and wintersbane was dedicated to it, eager to allow it to consume all of his time and energy. it was a process that he would not see rushed simply because the temptation of the season called to him like a siren out at sea.

...i certainly hope you don't lose your jewels from frostbite, wintersbane snickers as he speaks the words, assuming that the lighthearted way in which the other man speaks means that it can't possibly happen ( can it? yikes. ). see you soon. the tundrian calls after the pale man as he disappears from wintersbane's sight. left alone to his own devices the sotaherra continues on the path he'd been pursuing, cataloging vonn in his mental list of 'recruited'. today, thus far, was a success but wintersbane's a pragmatic man and as he veers south he knows that there is still much work cut out for the vartija.