good enough

For all of his sour stomach and worry, Erik still needed to eat. The scent of his mother hung on the wind up here, and he doesn't know exactly how to feel. Is it a trick of the light, a trick of his worried brain? Is it something else? Was she really back? And what of his father, in all of this?

But then. Here he is. The bastard prince still needs to eat, however that looked. Without the patience to attempt a real hunt, he settles for sharpening sticks. A pit trap would do, and a mountain goat would make for a fine meal. With a shard of shale, Erik begins to carve the ends of a few gathered branches into points, wearing and working away at the bark and flesh until it's sharp enough. Yeah, this'll do. This will do fine.

"Erik"