Blacktail Deer Plateau You can't stomach that stuff, that's not in you

The famine was taking its toll on everyone, and that included the behemoth Rosencrantz. He did all he could to stay away from food that he did not hunt himself. The normally thick burly man was beginning to wane. Thankfully the fat storage he had was keeping him just plump enough for now, but for how much longer until he became nothing other than a skeletal ghost of his former self?  

Wandering the plateau he came across the mother who was looking out into the distance with a defeated look. The watched for a moment, ears flickering as the gears within churned with what he should do. If he should approach and familiarize himself with at least one member. Would she appreciate the attempt at trying to comfort her?

With a soft sigh, he began to walk closer, clearing his throat in order to announce his presence before seating himself to watch the same scenery as she. It'll pass. He said. It was the only thing he could think of saying that could remotely be a possible way to cheer anyone up. That's what people liked, right? Some hope?