Emberwood It's hard to fight when the fight ain't fair.

That was a good sign, the cache. The group seemed to be working together quite well so far and they'd dug-in to the forest over the past few days. It felt more and more like home with each new sunrise. How do you like the woods? Marten asks and gives her a little look, to which Ibis shrugs and smirks.

I thought I'd miss the marsh more than I do, which is interesting. Its definitely different here but in a good way; not so damp all the time, not so cold. And when the autumn had been in full effect, the woods had burned brightly with so many glorious colors, most of which Ibis would never have experienced had they stuck to the boggy marshland. It feels like home. At least a little bit.

She takes the kill and carefully, swiftly, strips some flesh from it and then pushes it back towards him — unwilling to take the lion's share; she eats like a bird most days so this shouldn't be too surprising. As she's licking her lips clean Ibis counters his question with her own: Have you met many of the others?