Overture Downs but if I keep going crazy like this

tag for reference

The loss of the bison was concerning, to say the least, especially with winter fast approaching. Each morning Kove watched dutifully from beyond the stones, scanning the landscape and hoping that he would spot some movement, some sign of prey. But each morning was the same as the last, not even a trace of the herd to be found—and it was not only the bison that had gone astray, either, he realised. Anything aside from the occasional hare was gone; vanished from the valley in such a way that made him wonder if they’d ever truly been there at all. The quakes were to blame, this he was certain of, but what would that mean for the pack? For his family? Hesitation. What would happen? He gave a hard shake of his head, disregarding the thoughts that threatened him.

Nothing would happen, he would make damn sure of it.

Kove excused himself before the sun really had a chance to rise, letting @Valette know that he was going on a stroll beforehand; he said only that he needed to stretch his legs and that he would be back soon, not wanting to leave without saying anything. From there he ventured north, seeking a trail to follow and scents to track. But the farther he went, the more frustrated he became, the harsh reality of their situation dawning on him.

The herds were gone. Not just the bison but all of them—that which should be migrating through the valley was not to be found, nor were there any indicators that they had come through recently. The valley was void of prey, even the small game scarce.

The Inuk continued nevertheless, not wanting to return entirely empty-handed. Even if it was just a rabbit, it would at least be something. Only when he noticed a pale figure in the distance did his pace falter, mind curious but instincts insisting he avoid; a famine had a way of altering the mind and Kove did not want to see what others may turn to in a time of great crisis. And yet, his legs did not alter his course, drawn forward towards the retreating wolf by an unknown force; a feeling, or perhaps it was a thought, lingered in the back of his mind, encouraging him to approach. There was something familiar about the distant stranger—or perhaps it was just an old man’s mind playing tricks on him, leading him to believe he was back in the far north, where every pale body offered familiarity. Whatever it was he neither argued with nor challenged himself, and instead focused on reaching the individual before his body demanded he rests.