Despite him starting early in the morning, it was disheartening to see fewer and fewer places to forage as the unforgiving cold of winter began creeping in. Griz had just returned with a small sack full of berries and edible flowers he had gathered. Not much to contribute to the village's granary but it was always better than nothing.

It was around the same time that a small stocky goblin had called out to him, covered head to toe with ramshackle pieces of bark. [b]"Griz! Where have you been? It's almost time for us to begin patrols."[/b] The stocky goblin sees the meager bag of foraged goods and the rather disappointed look on the other goblin's face. [b]"Don't feel too bad, Griz. It's like what the shaman says: 'Nature is just resting after three seasons of providing blessings.' It's out of our hands."[/b] 

Griz could only sigh and nod to the consoling words of the stockier goblin. [color=khaki]"I know but...yeah. Completely out of our control."[/color] He sighs. [color=khaki]"I'll be in the gathering point in a short while. Ancestors guide you, Rom."[/color]

The stocky goblin replied with his own well-wishes before leaving. Griz on the other hand had to prepare for the patrol. Gods know only what they could encounter in the forest and, Griz knew that if they were to encounter the goblins of the rival tribe, some of them may not be coming home tonight...