Jack awoke before the rest of the camp, as was usual these days. It turns out that without the benefit of the ship's internal heating, most argu'n were even less morning people than he is during winter. An irritated moan from the pile of blankets he'd recently extracted himself from clearly expressed its feelings on the sudden removal of its favorite mobile heater. The space heater in question just laughed. "You know we have to get up and get going. We'll have to move our camp again with spring upon us." The pile of blankets countered his argument with an improvised pillow projectile.

After dodging the ineffective weapon, Jack eased himself back onto the bed to put on some pants when an arm shot out from the pile, grabbed the helpless human, and drew him back into a prison composed of limbs and blankets.

Jack laughed as he batted ineffectively at the offending limb. "We have to get up! You told me last night to make sure you got up!"

Finally, the pile of blankets spoke. "That was yesterday S'haar. I'm today S'haar, and I will not be held captive by yesterday S'haar's overly optimistic ambitions!"

Jack was starting to wonder if he'd ever be able to break free when his sister's voice spoke up from just the other side of the tent flap. "Oh, S'haar! I'm here with the info you requested on supplies, everyone's health, and our general readiness to get moving in the next couple of days!"

Finally, the pile of blankets shifted as a head appeared from the deepest recesses of the cocoon. "And when did I make such an asinine request?"

If she was intimidated, Angela's voice certainly didn't show it. If anything, she seemed even more cheerful than usual. "Just last night! During dinner, in fact. You even followed it up with the statement, 'Make sure I get up early! Don't let Jack allow me to sleep in!' So here I am, just like you requested!"

S'haar finally released Jack and started easing herself out of the blankets. She was sporting a few new scars and damaged plates than when Jack first met her, due to several life-or-death battles over the last year, but she seemed none the worse for wear as she continued resisting her own plan for the day. "Why is everyone so determined to listen to yesterday me? She had no idea how cold it would be this morning!"

Angela refused to be dissuaded. "I'm afraid yesterday you took that into account, too!" Following that, a fresh warming pack was shoved under the tent flap.

Jack couldn't help but laugh again at the pathetically defeated expression on S'haar's face. "It's your fault. You know your own weaknesses far too well and ruthlessly exploit them!" He softened the blow of his words by putting the warming pack in S'haar's coat and helping her ease it on.

S'haar started shifting from denial to anger at her past self when a metallic arm pushed into the tent holding a mug of steaming tea. The warrior woman grabbed the offered beverage and raised it to her snout. The warmth helped her bypass anger, bargaining, and depression to slip into acceptance. After a few moments, she took a sip and sighed. "Alright, I guess we'd better get started. Just tell me you brought something to eat as well?"

The metallic arm reappeared with a plate piled with eggs, bacon, and toast. Sadly, they'd run out of supplies from earth before leaving the outpost, so the eggs were more green than yellow, the bacon was made from smoked churlish meat, and the toast was much grainier than Jack was once used to, but it was still a pleasant call back to simpler times.

Jack cleared off the table while S'haar sat down and started picking at the plate as she spoke. "Alright, let's hear it!"

As Angela started listing figures and estimates, Jack eased himself into his own chair, joining S'haar in their breakfast.

-

To'brel slowly climbed out of bed, drawn by the promise of food and a nice warm fire. A while back, he'd asked Em'brel how she and Sare'en always found the drive to get out of bed so early to get everything going in the morning. She'd explained that Grim is what Jack referred to as 'warm-blooded,' meaning he actually generated an excessive amount of heat from within his own body, and he'd developed a habit of keeping her company in her sleep back in the outpost, a habit she wasn't going to debase him of in the cold winter months. But, of course, now that he was even larger than he'd been when To'brel first joined the outpost, he doubted anyone would be changing that habit soon.

Upon exiting the tent, To'brel was met by the wolgen in question. Grim's head now stood even with his own. Angela explained that he was probably at or near his full growth being a runt. He found that hard to grasp since if he'd been greeted by this monster on his first meeting with the outpost, To'brel might have just died on the spot and saved everyone a lot of trouble. Something bigger and scarier than this was hard to grasp... That and the fact that Lady S'haar had gone toe to toe with one and lived...

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Though as Grim dropped his head low for the new arrival to give him the expected scratches, To'brel admitted to himself he was being uncharitable. Grim would have been that scary if the monster didn't go out of its way to be constantly friendly.

After the greeting ceremony was complete, Grim wandered back to Em'brel and Sare'en, where he 'whumped' down onto the ground without his usual grace, acting like some drastically oversized puppy. The herder girl tossed him a small sliver of meat as a reward for picking a spot out of the way. Well, small compared to the mass of the beast, it would have been half a meal for To'brel.

As soon as he was seated, Sare'en had a plate in his hands before she could even greet him. "Good morning Lord To'brel!"

He accepted his plate with a sigh. "You know you don't have to call me that. I'm barely a 'Lord,' even by the most generous definitions. In reality, you're about as close to the position as me. Maybe more so, you've at least got some arlack and a wolgen that listen when you give orders! I haven't even seen the village I'm in charge of since I was made its 'Lord.'"

Sare'en shook her head as she handed him some flatbread to go with the grilled meat on his plate. "Nevertheless, you are a Lord, and I am not. Therefore it is only right for me to refer to you as such!"

To'brel took a bite of the bread before setting it on the plate and digging into the churlish flank. "But you don't call Em'brel, 'Lady Em'brel!"

Sare'en frowned as she stirred a pot of what would probably be lunch. "Sure I do! Whenever we have guests, if she's doing something formal, or if I really need to get her attention."

To'brel raised an eye ridge. "That's not the same. You never don't call me by my title!"

Sare'en shrugged. "What can I say? You're just not as cute as Em'brel!"

The female in question looked up from whatever she and Lady Fea'en were working on together. "Why are we talking about me like I'm not here?"

Lon'thul approached with another absurdly large kill that shouldn't have been possible to find in the middle of winter and answered on behalf of the other two. "Because you practically aren't here when you've got your nose buried in a scroll! Who knows what world that brain of yours is off visiting?"

Em'brel pouted, proving Sare'en right about how cute she is in the process. "I'm not that bad!.. Am I?"

Tel'ron was looking over the workmanship on a belly bow while eating his breakfast when he chimed in. "I don't know what they're talking about."

Em'brel's expression showed clear vindication. "See? I'm not that bad!"

Tel'ron's expression became more confused. "No, seriously, I don't know what you all are talking about. I wasn't paying attention."

Lon'thul was laughing so hard he was having a hard time staying upright. "By the gods! You couldn't have argued my point better if you'd tried! That was perfect! Don't ever change!"

The craft master looked mildly perturbed. "Of course I'm going to change. I'm always seeking to learn something new."

Em'brel shook her head in defeat while Fea'en gave the younger female a pitying look. "Don't worry about it too much. For all his bluster, Lon'thul is just trying to distract from whatever stupid thing he's said or done recently."

Lon'thul acted like the woodworking master had shot him with his own bow. "My Lady! Your accusations wound me!"

Ger'ron, who'd been speaking with his son about the belly bow in question, chuckled at the young male's antics. "Careful lad. You keep tempting that Lady's wrath in that manner, and you'll be on the receiving end of some far deeper cutting remarks than that!"

Fea'en looked over at the old guard as though challenging his statement. "Oh? Would our glorious captain of the guard like to say something?"

The old guard looked at some of his charges with a wan smile. "See, lads, this is precisely what I was talking about earlier. It is essential to know when a battle cannot be won, and retreating is the only viable strategy! There's no honor in committing suicide by stupidity!"

Hearing her mate's withdrawal, Lady Fea'en looked over the rest of the gathering, tempting anyone else to say something, but with Lon'thul having already said his piece, no one else was so foolish.

-

B'arthon looked out over the newly "acquired" village. This one had been easy enough. Many villagers had been starving due to a series of unfortunate events, and the combination of immediate relief combined with the promise of greater security in the future had been more than enough to win over most of the villagers.

Honestly, it was a good thing this village had capitulated so easily. It wasn't really worth the time and effort that would have been required to bring it to heel by force. Out here, in the middle of a forest, with no natural resources to speak of, the only thing they had to offer in return for supplies was its citizens. That's alright, though. They were definitely in need of more bodies to fill the ranks of several areas of A'ngles' growing empire, and this would make an excellent location to pass caravans through to supply the expanding borders of said empire. Also, they'd need to expand their woodworking capabilities if this was to be a hub village, so they could handle maintenance and repairs of everyone traveling through.

B'arthon was on his way to meet the village Lord to discuss such changes but found himself distracted by something that caught his eye. One of the hunters leaving the hunter's shack had a peculiar necklace, sporting one very long claw. He turned to his escort with a thoughtful expression. "What is that necklace many guards and hunters around here seem to be wearing? It's similar to yours, but I only remember seeing maybe three or four hunters in our village having them, but it seems like at least a couple dozen here do."

Dek'thul nodded. "I'd noticed that too. Those are the claws of a wolgen, traditionally awarded to anyone who participated in a successful hunt. But for there to be so many, it must have been a hunt for a mated pair. It's rare to see so many survivors of such an ill-fated hunt... Though it would explain the poor condition of the village, they must still be recovering from the ordeal. It must have happened no more than a year ago, probably less..."

That triggered something in B'arthon's mind. A memory of a report from the Dragon's outpost before it had fallen. He marched into the village Lord's hut with a new agenda in mind.