Bearclaw Valley Single file, like soldiers on a mission.

Eventually Karst would awaken to the truths about Ursus: that it was a place of rampant fanatacism, one which punished the weak. He knew some of this already; often on the receiving-end to the other wolves' so-called revelry. Even if he wanted to be spared from the spiritual side of things he knew, in a vague sense for now, that he was a part of the equation. There had to be someone at the bottom and Karst fit the bill. He was not bearborn, he did not have any spirits on his side, and the lot of them knew it.

The only thing he could do was learn. Learn and hope that he could survive long enough to keep the information that'd he worked out of each person he came in to contact with. Averna was by far the more reasonable; which says a lot about the volatility of Karst's surroundings.

Spirits, he finally murmured, his voice grating until he cleared his throat. How do you... Talk to them?

There was the altar here at the boulder. There could have been others scattered across Ursus in hidden grottos, secreted away for privacy, and Karst would never find them. But he wanted to understand and he wanted the knowledge for himself; everyone else seemed to be one step ahead of him in every case, and it was time to change that.