Kildeer Rest real gods require blood

wintersbane's attention is drawn from the stone formation at the low chuff to derg. according to tundrian lore, wintersbane launches into explanation at the quizzed look the other male gives him. you present the god of hunt, nyyrikki with an offering. if he accepts the offering you'll have a successful hunt. if he rejects it, you'll be chased off by another predator, often in a bear. it's his sacred animal. it's just lore but still, after spending time with blackfeather and devoting himself to mephala wintersbane is more inclined to believe such things now than he ever had in the past.

i scented a small deer family, he gestures in their direction with his muzzle, ears cupping forth atop his skull. i thought one of the fawns would be a good addition to the caches. of course, one of the adult deers would be even better but he wasn't out to push his luck. you're welcome to join me if you'd like —

wintersbane gets cut off mid-sentence as a bellow from the neighboring woods nearby their current position causes the kildeer nearby to cry out and take flight in panic. wintersbane's hackles bristle with unbidden unease as he turns weary and cautious gaze to the tree line that appears to tremble at the steady pound of heavy and lumbering footfalls. his ears fall back to slick against his skull, a low fuck. spilling betwixt his lips in a hiss. a second bellow comes and he looks to derg. so much for that offering. an attempt at dry humor as wintersbane takes a couple steps back, eager to put some distance between him and the treeline.

aren't bears supposed to be hibernating still? admittedly, he doesn't know in any kind of detail. that always seemed like more of a hunter problem than a warrior problem.