Phoenix Maplewood maybe I can drown

with their efforts of hunting dashed, for the time being anyway, wintersbane lets out a small sigh of resignation; and has to remind himself almost forcefully for he's terrifyingly used to the type of traumatic incidents that plagued moonspear, that at least he's alive. at least he survived. a scarred leg compared to ...being crushed to death? it was a small price to pay for the incredible stroke of luck that had ultimately spared him ( or was it a curse? he was beginning to not know the difference ).

still, he cannot help but guilt that gnaws at his belly as he follows imaq, knowing that he could not provide her with a simple, scrawny rabbit to fill her own belly. he wasn't hungry but he had the good fortune of having company to look after him. a struck of luck that always happened to find him when he was injured it would seem.

he is still apprehensive about the sap being any kind of sufficient food source but the tundrian humors his lovely companion all the same and samples the chunk of sap she lays before them. to wintersbane, it is almost sickeningly sweet but despite that not unpleasant. unusual, he thinks. it's different. he offers, still debating how he ultimately felt about the sweet taste that cloys upon his tongue.