Deepwood Weald ships on vigor

The ostmen was not the only one who tracked the herds within the glade. 

Lótë weaved amongst the spindly brambles of undergrowth and tree alike, peridots flitting alertly as she wandered. A dip of her head as she tugged the deerhide closer about her frame, the warmth of it slipping and allowing the chill to brush her skin. 

She'd almost mistaken him for the spirit-bear from a distance -- if not for the pale sand that washed his legs in golden stockings and the many scars that laced his immense frame. 

The cloudberry dared to wander closer, calling out in a soft chuff to determine if he desired company. 

sorry for the delay!