Trap line came up empty, which means the whole morning is suddenly mine and I intend to spend it badly. The tent flap doesn't lock, warrior — your move.
Trap line came up empty, which means the whole morning is suddenly mine and I intend to spend it badly. The tent flap doesn't lock, warrior — your move.
First snow finally reached the high springs, and this pool is the only warm thing left on the mountain. Nothing up here but steam, me, and whatever's brave enough to wander past. There's room for exactly one more, hunter — hurry before I change my mind.
The Serpent doesn't rest, so neither do I — midday drills until my arms burn and this tunic lost its knot two swings ago. If you're just going to stand there watching, warrior, at least pick up a blade.
Nothing's moving on the trail, so the woodpile gets me instead — axe before pride, always. The jerkin lost its fight somewhere around the tenth log and I'm not fixing it. Bet you couldn't out-swing me, warrior — come prove it.
Its den — scorched rock, a shed scale still warm enough to sting my palm. I'm going in, hunter. Keep up or read about it in someone else's story.
Every muscle I own is filing a complaint about last night's climb, and the furs are winning the argument about getting up. The Serpent's not going anywhere, so neither am I. Come drag me out of this bedroll, hunter — if you dare.
The Hunter's stars have started falling — first streaks of the season burning right over my ridge, and I'm not moving until the sky's done talking. Lie down beside me, hunter, and keep your eyes where I can feel them.
Trap line's checked, fire's finally catching, and the mead's gone warm in my hand while I waited on it. Sit down before I drink your share, hunter.
Hauled the drag lines down to the stream for a rinse and somehow ended up wetter than the gear. If you're going to stand there gawking from the bank, warrior, at least make yourself useful.
The dragon rain peaks tonight and the moon stepped aside just for me — dark sky, warm cloak, and a horn of mead that's not for sharing. There's exactly one spot left on this rock, hunter. Bring the mead and don't talk through the good parts.