Bearclaw Valley Says he’s broke

Bein' vague because the raids are ongoing!

The valley wolves needed supplies, and Stryx did not feel as if she had ingratiated herself among the cultists to any great degree yet, so it seemed appropriate in her mind to fill caches as she studied the terrain, and whatnot. At least then she could while away the hours between her lessons with Arielle; that was why she'd been allowed to stay here, after all.

But it was a drag. Stryx was thoroughly a skeptic when it came to their beliefs. She didn't care for anyone's faith, as it had no impact on her work as far as she understood it. In the many years she'd had to study herbalism and medicine, faith had not entered in to it.

Her work was diligent and it was comprised of long hours spent hiking, which her body could barely handle, or gathering, which was harder than normal due to the excessive snows. So when Stryx woke that evening with a shiver she cursed aloud to herself for falling asleep on the job.

What kind of impression would that impart?

She shakes snow from her shoulders which must have fallen some time during her impromptu nap, and moseyed her way along one of the many branching paths - intent on finding the storehouse, but, she only found a ghostly creature by the valley mouth; their song rang out soon enough.

The hell? The buzzkill huffed, teeth chattering.

The stranger was pale like the snow, and small. They could've been a little kid for all Stryx could tell, or something of a threat. Fortunately she wasn't like the more diabolical fanatics of the valley.

Who're you, what're you doin' here, and — heck, do you not notice how late it is? Should try back in the morning. Unless she was intent on becoming a sacrifice to these weirdos, that is.