Broken Antler Fen tossed in a cell to feast with the fleas

“That’s usually the plan,” he mentioned as she brushed over herding them closer. “We’re generally well prepared for winter, so long as you don’t mind eating meat that’s a little dry and tough. Between Osiris and Atlas and myself, the caches are usually decent. Hydra and her sisters hunt quite a bit too,” he went on to explain, almost reassuringly. They had managed through famine and harsh winters before, and would do so again. Of that, he was confident.

Still, winter was never a time to be complacent. He never had been regarding it.

“The herds do tend to migrate a bit, but there are some that stick around that don’t move on. I’d imagine some of the passes to the south get snowed in; it’s a longer trek to the forests on the other side of Moonspear when winter comes too.” Earthquakes had already made it a longer trek when the most prevalent pass had been blocked off, but they had found ways to work around that too. Benefits of being accomplished mountaineers and nothing more.

As they climbed a small rise, he paused to survey, looking for signs of where the herd had gone on.

“A few days ago I came out here with Atlas, while they were still close to our claim. We did get a decent head count on them then but I’m curious if others have been picking through them. There’s a bull with them, at least one that I saw. Plenty of points on his antlers, but they didn’t seem sharp.” They could still do a lot of damage, however. “If we pick up their trail again, we can make a plan, just like old times.”

A smile graced him.