The Sunspire the gilded age has long been done

True, it had been a winter all the same. Cold and snowy, perhaps even icy at times. But Mordecai felt it was not as bad as it could have been. But with their mild winter coming to fall behind them, he could not help but wonder what the coming seasons would bring. Perhaps their mild winter was the start of a drier year in general, or maybe the skies had trapped all that unused snow up to dump on them in the form of torrential rains and storms. Ultimately, time would tell, and he found that he was honing in quickly on another statement altogether than the affairs of the weather.

"There's plenty of game now if you know where to look for it," he mentioned, wondering if the warden did any scouting himself. "Many of the herds have returned to the flatlands on the other side of the mountains behind me. I think we'll have a good year ahead of us, if they multiply willingly." Being a hunter himself, he saw no qualms in sharing that information. He didn't know if the wolves of the Spire would bother to come hunt in the flatlands and truth be told, he hoped they wouldn't. There would be enough competition coming and unbeknownst to him, the pressing urge of the close proximity of the other packs was weighing in on his mind.