Despite their best precautions, sometimes shit happened, and a predator had taken one of that year's half grown lambs in the middle of the night, near the end of a shift so the guards were not quite as alert. It wasn't surprising how clever the thief was, since it was an older cougar, experienced enough to wait until the right time and not so foolish as to stick around to let them catch him. She'd left Tam with the flock guards to corral the survivors and check them over for wounds while she set off to track the puma with Ren and Ayer. Unfortunately, she'd found where the cat had killed the lamb and eaten its fill before fleeing again, and she had lost his trail. Frustrated and tired she'd returned to what remained of the lamb to see what she could salvage, and now she had the quartered carcass bundled together in the torn hide (she thought she could at least get strips out of it for binding things) slung over her back as she trudged along. It was afternoon, now, and she'd been up far too long, but it was what it was. Ren was a very short way off, alert to any other predators that might be drawn by the scent of butchered meat, and even Ayer was running alongside rather than in her usual spot on Corbie's back so she didn't have to carry the kinkajou's weight along with the lamb. She'd made it as far as the prairie before needing to take a break, and here she was flopped down in the fall sun, panting, still frustrated but tired enough for the feeling to have faded into the background.

With not many good market days left, Dread wasn't going to waste time. Even if things were still strange, he had work to do. Trading for supplies, doing the boring day-to-day shit. Especially in the wake of the last raid, he's in good shape to make the trip without strain. That, and he had the best relationship with the dealers, even if he wasn't about to take advantage of anyone's kindness.

End season goods, what could he pack to offer them? Rations, portioned for the road, packed tidily. A few bottles of late summer brew, some warm layers to add to bedrolls, the scrap hinges that he was still trying to offload, and a pile of ornamental somethings that Kenway or Wake had stashed in the makeshift cart. Wake had been terribly proud of the contraption, and he wasn't about to let the kid down without at least trying. Is this what it is to be an older sibling?

Fast trip, up and back. Even on a fast trip, he wasn't going to be stupid about it. Slowing in the heat of the sun, he can see the woman not far off. "Long walk?" It's a loose, careful greeting. Dread would give her space, not wanting to apply undue pressure. Letting her know she isn't alone, but hopefully that he's not a threat, either.

Corbie's ears pricked as another wolf meandered closer, pulling a makeshift cart packed with things she was polite enough to ignore to not make it seem like she was greedily eyeing up the goods. Instead she dipped a head in greeting to the younger, larger male. "Long day," she returned, not disagreeing so much as clarifying. "Had a cougar take one of our lambs and I had to track it down to recover it. No sense letting it go to waste." She looked closer at him, noting the scent and the markings on the wolf. She could swear that looking at him, he was nearly the spitting image of the Fatalis wolves, yet his scent screamed that he was one of Gil's wolves, and she had been under the impression that they didn't get along particularly well. Seems like she needed to be paying more attention to the pack politics if she was behind. "And yourself? Traveling far, looks like?"