"Water-resistant? That's perfect, Damar."
My eyes lit up.
I had once described to them about footwear, how walking on the soil, though it didn't hurt, was uncomfortable. And it would be even more so once the snow starts falling and the ground is filled with snow.
It would be too cold to keep moving.
So this works out well.
The minks and sables were from a weasel family, so I had so much joy skinning them. Ah, a filthy kind of joy, but it was still joy.
Noah, who had been tasked with stretching the larger hides over wooden frames to dry, let out a low whistle. "You two really went on a rampage. I haven't seen this much meat in one camp since the last Great Hunt."
Fenric grunted, his muscles bulging as he hauled the carcass of a deer toward the smoke rack. "We have a wife who needs to stay warm."
I looked at them all—Noah's hands were finally busy, Fenric's brow dripping with effort, and Damar's focused, elegant labor.
