Broken Boulder blutzahn

backdated to nov 24th, directly after this

having made a mental note to speak with the retreating she-wolf again, mahler looked attentively toward @Arcas. "how are you healing?" he inquired gruffly. the thrall was pursuing a hunt, as he had said; morning, boss reverberating in his head.
and so, mahler assumed, arcas faced no failure from his torn flesh. he was silent, waiting for the other to lead them off in search of the aforementioned meal.

Arcas on the other hand would keep his distance from the girl, which was suitable as he had much work to do to appease his debt. One thing is certain about the young man: he is not easily distracted once he is given a job to do, and even now he doggedly investigates the scents layered upon the frosted earth.
He finds there the bitter rotting smell of debris, a crossing path that reeks of wolf urine a few steps later, and a vague otherness that causes a claxon to sound in his mind; some kind of rival predator scent that carries his attention.
The leader's question is met with a hm?
Quickly. You know your stuff, doc.

a satisfied sound in his chest. "a long time of learning to save myself after a fight." without a pack or a wife, how would a young traveller understand what he must do to avoid the creeping infection? but mahler was determined to accept his ageing; he would not pepper arcas with the meandering stories of a man past his prime.
his hide, littered with scars; the tracery of them upon his face. vaguely mahler touched tonguetip to his chin, and grief raced through him to remember the moment he had received them from wylla. 
"how did you come by the vound? these savage trees," he suggested, referring to the cruel winding of thorns through the bracken.

Arcas could appreciate that, he thought. Better to depend on oneself than anyone else. That was a sentiment he could stand behind. It was different from the codependence his father fostered back at home; Arcas felt briefly justified in his refusal to take any wives from his father's extensive collection in that moment.
The question was met with a small scoff.
I got all turned around in the woods, next thing I knew, thorns everywhere. Brambleworks. Whatever you want to call it. He did not want to admit that he had been trapped there for a few days by the time Mahler had found him - perhaps that was evidenced by how deep the thorns had cut in to his hock, or the state of the wound. Nasty stuff, that. Managed to break some of the thinner pieces and uproot an old vine or two, took a lot of work to get free... And I'm mighty glad you came by when you did.

mahler nodded. "these voodlands are quite treacherous. i am glad that i found you." it would not be for nothing; arcas seemed determined to curry favour with the shadowpriest, and mahler was welcoming of it. it occurred to him that he might ask after the earlier conflict, but he chose not to do so. sequoia would be sought out at a later time.
"i have held large territories before. this is smaller, and yet it feels more maintainable," he remarked. the stones of a proper village could not be built first without a proper stretch of land, and he believed he had found it.