He had made his way from the borders into the den he owned high up on the peaks and had settled his way into a laying position. He lay there solemn and quiet, alone with his thoughts, but he should have known better than to have thought he would have been alone long when the face of Polly appeared in the entrance to his home... His empty home...

He stared at her, quiet and stone still as he held back the emotions he knew would soon come flowing forth from his lips once she started to speak. A heavy sigh escaped his nostrils and he blinked slowly... Almost dead... He felt that way inside...

Every emotion he had swirled around him like a whirlwind, his words echoing through the forest, through his brain, as the heavy title of Huntsman lay on his head. Polly... He uttered deeply, lowly, after a few long moments of silence fell between them.

Thanks for holding up the fort while we were gone... He mumbled lifelessly, his thoughts drifting to the fermented berries he had stashed in the back of their dark cold home... His dark cold home...