Herbalists' Cache What the morning brings

Ridgeback moved in the early morning light, slipping down a narrow deer path toward a stream where he’d broken through ice days ago to find drinking water. He felt the seasons begin to change; the buds on the shrubs and alders in the area had already begun to swell. 

He’d hoped that Spring might bring him joy; foolishly, perhaps, he still thought it might be possible, but he’d always been a sucker for hope.

He’d heard voices raise, calling for Star Eater and Sun Eater, for Gjalla and for others; many new wolves had joined the pack, but Ridgeback had existed for some time tending only to his wife, and had begun leaving food offerings for the Chieftan’s wife. He hunted, it was his job- and yet as the pack grew, he felt himself becoming uncomfortable amongst them. 

They spoke different languages- and he was quite slow to learn. While he felt it didn’t impact his role as a hunter, he felt like a minority within the pack; one of very few who had belonged to the pack’s original conception, outnumbered by those who had lived the pack’s lifestyle for many years more than him. 

The gap in the stream remained open; warmer temperatures were coming. He drank, but wondered to himself- what else was on the way?