Ioranir

Furley sat down shortly after they left, sighing as he mentioned how worn out the danger earlier had made him feel. And she, Daphne, could see that on his face as she bent to take her helmet from the ground. 

With Ithilwe's head against my shoulder, the rest of the evening is spent silently pondering what is to come next. 

It was like tracking a wounded animal. The blood had left a vibrant trail on the pale snow, followed by deep and staggered prints. He was close, hopefully face down in a a berm as it was never easy tracking or fighting those of his family.

What an unusual day it had turned out to be! Daphne's mind was everywhere as she packed her belongings once again. Though it wasn't all bad, the day weighed on her. She was weary and longed to collapse into sleep. But she knew despite her exhaustion, her mind was too scattered and energetic to actually rest yet. 

Ioranir sat quietly in front of the fire that sat in the middle of the hut, stirring a bowl of fish head stew slowly. He had only returned to his hut a few moments before everyone had gone to sleep and decided a quick meal wouldn't hurt. With the fresh snow coming in, only people who had undergone the rites of passage into becoming a fledged member within the tribe were allowed out during the night time due to the various predators that stalked in the fresh night air.

The snow crunched under his fur wrapped boots as the young hunter made his way across the open field. Peering up towards the sky as Sininen followed from the heavens. The village was only but a few hours ahead of him, the string of rabbits hung loosely around his body along with a bundled heap of furs strapped across his back. Sighing, as he continued across the landscape carefully.