Blacktail Deer Plateau Trips and dips and daisies

indeed, the dreadfather murmurs, scarred lips twitch upwards into a ghost of a smile. and if they are not hunters they can bring fruits — a pause is given. if any can still be found. is added as a soft afterthought, forgetting for a wild moment that the chill in the air meant food might be scarce and that death of flora was inevitable.

hmm, the noise, contemplative in its nature, lingers in ingram's throat. your gods do not seem terribly unlike the daedra. he offers as he pauses to rub his side against a tree; the rough bark snagging bits of his fur.

ingram makes a noncommittal noise in his throat; this was not unusual for his nightwife and him. these acts of disappearing and re-appearing. if they were not meant to be together in this life: there would be others.

perhaps then you might have an apprentice or another full-fledged healer to help you in such a task. much could change between now and spring...and there was no telling what manner of wolves would find their way to the plateau.