Sun Mote Copse Children will Listen

Shadowposted - sorry!

Hunting was a game of luck and chance. It had always been that way and Wraen, who could not get an adrenaline rush from a combat (because she would lose miserably) or a single-handed large game tracked, enjoyed the little victories in trapping the small animals. This had been the key survival skill of hers and almost four years spent in this world training and practicing daily, let her see a silver-lining in their current famine-looming-over-the-horizon situation. The circumstances had grown more difficult as the winter wore on this year, but she did not see them as insurmountable obstacles. Rather an extra challenge and chance to be more creative in the ways she hunted.

So - to her - the shortage of food was not as pressing as it might been for everyone else. There was always something to fill her belly in order to avoid the painful feeling of hunger in it. This was not the case with everyone else, of course, and now with an injured wolf to take care of, Wraen was more diligent in her search and felt the failures more keenly. Quite frequently her mind also wandered northwards, where the beaches were, or south, where Frosthawks had relocated to and where situation might have been better. But now did not seem the right time for a lengthy journey away from her people. She had been off before and, even if it had lifted her spirits and given her fresh view of the world, it had never felt fair to the rest of the pack, who relied on her. 

So with these thoughts in mind and maybe more, she happened to cross paths with Niamh, who had returned from a patrol and was having a conversation with Towhee. Again - a wave of guilt. Aside from her son, Wraen hadn't found anyone, who could and would join Niamh's small regimen. Something always happened, there was always something more important to do than to seek new, capable recruits. "Hey!" she called out to the resident sergeant-at-arms and their neighbour and joined the two. "How are you doing today?"