Bart was unsurprised that Lurch sent them out again. It was bloody cold and Karis could suck a man's tit for how much she'd give or take any of them, being one of the only females in their crew and as like to gut a man as she was to spit in his eye. That said, she was a damn fine tracker. 

“Ser,” he nodded and lumbered back to the fire where he shot out, “K'ris, Werrick – you grab y'self onea dem dogs. Th' bitch thar, yeh?” He pointed at a black nosed brown bitch with her tail between her legs and a snarl on her face when another got too close to her space. She was smaller than the rest so she'd not tire out when she walked in their trail as much as the wider males who would have more snow up against them. Her slender frame worked best in snow. 

He strapped on the walking frames which they'd found kept them atop the untouched snow better. With an entire group trouping through, by the time every one had passed, they'd leave a road of snow and ice behind. At times, the snow would be hard even, but one only needed to get into the lee of a snow break of trees or some other type and they'd end up to their waist in snow. 

Werrick growled out something that Bartrum ignored. Every man should have opportunity to grumble, so long as it didn't stop him from doing as he was told. Karis, however, was up and forward of their place as if she were the dog on the line. A quick whistle and a name he didn't bother to know as he didn't give a shit about the dogs, and the bitch was after her. 

“Boss wants us ta check th' tracks ag'in. Gonna gauge them trees, too,” he gestured to the stand of white bone dry trees in the distance. It was dark, darker than it had been in the other gates he'd been through, so he was thinking that they were further light away than he'd been before. There came a point of time where everything was just cold and black and he didn't expect life to continue when he couldn't feel his nose half the time. 

“Demmed fool errand,” he groused himself as he stood, shook himself, and began to lumber after where she'd gone, silently pointing to the place where she'd found the tracks. She wasn't a talker, that one. 

Werrick came alongside, adjusting his jacket to get furs up around his ears. “Holy piss, Bart,” he snapped. “Wha's th' Lurch askin' us fer this ag'in? Chance's we'll find it jes' a hundred paces from 'ere, all froze an' as impossible t'move as a mountain. Wha's th' church need'em fer anyway?” 

Bart shook his head. He had been hunting these things, or them things like it, for over a decade and still couldn't have told Werrick any answer that would have made sense. 

“Mebbee they wanna cool down them saint's rooms. Keep them bodies frum being all rot,” he snorted. 

“Hah!” Werrick laughed as he stopped by Karis. They peered down at the snow. “Don' see nuthin', Karis.” 

“Where'd 'e go?” Bart asked, rather than inquiring if Karis could do her job correctly. He'd learned that the hard way.