Bearclaw Valley Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.

They came to a dark hole, although it was different from the hiding place he had once shared with his brother, and different from where the other children once lurked. It smelled of stale grass, which was oddly comforting in a world made so empty by winter.

The choice that came next surprised him, with Karst nesting quickly among the collections. He did not know what these things were, and soon enough he was distracted enough chewing on the frozen fish to pay attention to much.

Merrick's probing look made him pause and swallow, a slick chunk of fish cheek wedging in his throat until he swallowed again. He released the fish and looked around — damaged ears twisting inquisitively.

His sleepy eyes took in the dim surroundings and slowly turned to face Merrick again, but this time he is unable to meet that single emberous eye, and sighs, okay.