Captain Crozier

The snow is oddly soft underfoot for it being so damned cold. Crozier idly wonders if this means something (or someone) is coming, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on what could be for too long. Quality of life at this point is more important than speculation; they wouldn’t be able to live if they spent all their time worrying.

His boots sink into the snow as he heads up a short incline towards some trees he’d been attempting to tap. The spouts are rudimentary, the collection method haphazard as he tries to figure out this new little project of his, but he’s hopeful that one day he’ll produce some syrup and resin and the effort will have been worth it.

He hears a soft snort coming from up ahead, too soft to be a wolf or bear and too loud to be a domesticated pup, and freezes in place while he tries to figure out what the hell is approaching now. Thankfully he doesn’t wait long enough to work himself up into a panic, because out from the brush comes the boar that magically emerges to give them all gifts. A predictable season oddity, as it were.

Later, trudging back to the cabin with his loot in arm, he smiles with the thought that he’s done well with his request. He can’t wait to show Ram.