Otter Creek oh, how can this be? i’ve finally found peace

assured by her words, he readily allows the conversation to move onto the topic of his own making: the herds. or rather, the lack thereof. ❝there's a herd i've been keeping an eye on in the past few territories. small. about four.❞ wintersbane tells her, and bites back the urge to add that the additional meat is necessary. he has not spent any time around the newborns or mother and hopes that their scent, however faint, does not carry upon his pelage. it is his duty to protect them as much as it is mahler's, though wintersbane is absent the title of 'family' as the gargoyle bears.

she falls into step with him and then moves on ahead. wintersbane makes no moves to quicken his pace. it remains steady, leisurely despite his words of herd tracking. as it is, he doesn't wish to travel too far from the spire. this, for now, is far enough. if the herd did not circle back around into a closer territory he could send an aspiring hunter of theirs out.

❝i'm wintersbane,❞ he offers, dropping off 'ansbjørn' as he's wont to do. unintentional, of course; he just doesn't think it's always necessary to tack on especially when it'll go unrecognized. ❝who're you?❞ the tundrian inquires in return.