Two Rivers Isle What if the Storm Ends

You are learning, Ulrich said, with another smile. It will become easier with time, though, as I said, not all hunts end in victory. We've been lucky so far. Lucky, but still losing weight. The amount of meat they'd found so far had not been enough to sustain them at the weight they'd been when they'd first run away. Still, they had not starved to death yet. Wolves were hardy. They had to be.

"Then why'd you go along with it, if you thought it wouldn't work?"

I had hope, he replied, simply. Without a pack, everything we do is a long shot. The worst decision is no decision. There's no time, on our own, to doubt. We must act when we can, or we die of starvation or the elements. He blinked, realizing how serious he had suddenly become. Don't worry too much about that, though. We'll be all right as long as we stick together. This wasn't, strictly, true, but it was something he hoped for, and therefore it wasn't exactly a lie.

She asked where they should make the caches and he nodded at her next words. Not too near the den, no, but other than that, it doesn't really matter where they are. We only need to remember roughly where we put them; ideally we should bury them down deep enough that the smell won't attract predators. However, the ground is too hard in the winter to dig that far down, so we won't have to be as precise in remembering right now. But that also means we'll have to check the caches every day if we can, to make sure they haven't been dug up.

Come, he said, and turned around, looking at her over his shoulder. You bring the stoat, I'll get the rabbit. With a nod, he led her off, to go and make their first cache.