Bitterroot Valley is there even a way to tell them apart?

for a moment ezra considers telling sega that he'd learned how to hunt small game — fish, birds, bird eggs whilst trying to take care of his ailing mother ... but he doesn't. his past was rife with tragedy and trails and tribulations. but it was that: his past. and he's been living in it for too long, wistful for the 'what if's' that haunt his every waking hour. so, the stoneson accepts the compliment with a small dip of his head, though admits with a slightly sheepish grin, the vater is cold and the fish have become lazy.

he'd had extraordinary luck to catch more than one.

ezra is quiet as he is given their task for the day: a big hunt that he was to watch and follow; low snort leaving the sonnenwaser at the humor that leaves his leader, following the amusing mental image of sega trying to drag him home by his tail for stumbling. you can try, rejoins the stoneson, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. i vill keep up. i von't stumble.