Broken Boulder agnik-miu

mahler nodded contemplatively. "some are not made for the vinters here." snowhounds or not, wrought in ice or not, the shadowpriest felt he had weathered all climes for many years in these wilds, and therefore knew their details best. 
the need to rest was beginning to overcome him, though mahler was loathe to believe it was age. exhaustion and hunger had made fools of them all. "tomorrow we go out to hunt," he grunted, moving from the past into the present. "ve vill need to be like northmen to fare in this place." dry humour, the sort he had been raised with. 
"there are two vomen here searching for husbands. make yourself useful to rivenvood and perhaps begin your own line vhen the spring comes." a hefty prize to be sure, a decree that broke one of his own laws, but mahler would not see the boulderpack fail for lack of heirs.