Bearclaw Valley vegas

Glaukos had returned to the valley a day or two ago, having spent time on his own to process the interaction with Druid and Heda. He knew now that there was no trust between them. There was only fear and loathing from the women, confusion from the one child he had seen.

He found his way to the center of the valley. Soaking the scent of Rivenwood out of his coat in a spring that was familiar, then seeking a meal. The man dug in to a cache and ate something small, withered, and cold without company.

Then he moved on, doing as he had told the other occupants: seeking the hiding places of altars, finding herbs and things to restock the healer's hideaway; this was work that would take him many days, but would at least keep him distracted.

So would the removal of the rotten things on those old shelves, and the uprooting of invasive foliage. It put to use his muscles in a way that was not so abrasive but as satisfying as a physical task could be.

Like pushing a boulder. He thought, as he worked.