Big Salmon Lake Moon rocks

ucky short Thanksgiving phone post, mi apologize

The suns and moons bled into one, the phases of the moon mocked him, never relented to show mercy. Rye could have sworn each pad of his foot had been rubbed raw from the constant of the wet of snow. Traveling in winter was not easy. Thankfully the lake offered some protection against the howling wind and burdensome snow, the secluded trees would Rye perch himself under. As he laid, Rye withdrew leaves from his medical pouch and began to chew them into a poultice. His belly growled, the taste of the leaves not particularly sweet or meaty but nevertheless the temptation to swallow the poultice was strong. Eating wasn't always an option for the distraught father, worry fed him but its calories left him wanting. Still, it would have to wait. The poultice finished being mashed, so Rye began to lick his wounds.