Did you hear the news? They finally cleared the snow from the mountain pass. It's bad up there. The Innersen family, up in High Langstrath, lost five men over the winter. Young Thrainar is the only one left.

What happened? Troll attack?

Worse. Blight in their grain stores. By the end, they were boiling their boot leather for food, by Thrainar's account. The men drank orc blood so the womenfolk would have enough to survive.

Oh, that's terrible. They always were very selfless. But I'm sure their souls are feasting in the halls of the ancestors, smiling down on us as we speak. And their... physical remains?

Are the inheritance of Thrainar, naturally. The poor man. Losing his father, brother and uncles in one season and gaining five of those animals to keep watch over. Five! Can you imagine?! They'll be a handful, make no mistake. He'd be wise setting them to work the fields at once, tire them out, or they'll become almost as bad as the wild ones.

Not to mention their wives and homesteads pass to him now. That's a heavy responsibility for a man his age. He must be run ragged.

He certainly looked exhausted.

Would you do it? If you had to?

Me? Drink orc blood? W-well, one likes to think one would sacrifice everything for family but... No.

I admire any man who can but I'd never have the stomach for it. All that blood? And to spend the rest of your life like that? Uh, not that there's anything left of them of course. Would you?

To survive, of course. And then I trust that you, dear friend, would kindly put a crossbow bolt in me the moment spring rolled around. Anyway, I'll see what food I can spare and send it their way before the snows return. Let's just hope Thrainar has a firm hand on those beasts. One would dread to find oneself snowed in with five of them.