After tucking his boot back in his belt—it was the right one, with no foot to cover—Rundall sighed and lowered himself into the chair he’d brought. It was his one luxury, apart from the whiskey he occasionally shared with his men, and he appreciated the measly comfort of its fabric seat. Now Dreefus was finished causing a fuss, he could get back to scowling at the crutches he couldn’t entirely trust anymore. Not with ice and snow everywhere. He was eyeing the smooth ends, toying with the notion of nails and spikes and mostly not actually thinking it was a good idea. Split the wood, more likely, but it was still tempting. 

“Haaa, should haves, could haves.” He’d always known he should have ordered some studded caps or something for traction. Wasn’t as though he’d never seen a winter before. Just never got around to doing it. Blacksmiths were expensive, even for loyal hunters with the Church’s backing. Discounts only got you so far, and honestly… the pay wasn’t much to write home about. Didn’t have to be, most of the hunters took up the job because they didn’t belong anywhere else. Some more so than others…

His eyes lifted from his crutches to fall on the bear beside him with roughly the same idle disappointment and resignation. They’d gotten used to each other, over the years, enough so that Rundall no longer considered the effort of paperwork worth getting rid of the man. Oh, he still had complaints, but he was more amused by the slow show of respect than troubled by it. Still, he couldn’t help sighing as he reached into his bag to pull out his best substitute for studded boots: stuffed leather and caltrops. Tying the makeshift pieces around the ends of his crutches, he couldn’t help wondering why it was he felt easier with this gruff wreck than that poor, harmless kid sitting over by the other fire and looking even more miserable now he had to eat the hard tack he’d been handed for dinner. 

“Doan laik this empty space. Karis did th’sweep, but ain’t fer sure there’s nothing. Tahk ‘er an’ Werric an’ one’a th’dogs. Go wide ‘round and look int’that track she found. Then get yehr bearin’s with distance on that dead lotta trees there… Ain’t sure it’s so close s’it looks.” Rundall gave the orders without much need for small talk, and he didn’t feel the least bit sorry about sending any of them off into the cold away from the fires, either. They needed to learn more about this world, look for signs it was lived in or even more dangerous than the dark and cold of long winter threatened. And though Karis hadn’t found anything untoward, she hadn’t been as thorough as she could be. Though, apparently it hadn’t been hard to find the trail of the beast that must have come through the portal. Given as it didn’t continue on the other side. But, some time ago, apparently. He’d have called the tracks divots himself, and not thought anything of them they’d been blown over so well, but that’s why Karis was the tracker, not him.