Breakfast of Champions?

The wind has picked up, causing snowbanks to appear across the landscape, only less so in the forest. At least the icy rain has let up, with the sky above a painfully bright blue.

The fire has been stoked, the embers coaxed into igniting bark shavings and twigs, only now just eating into the larger sticks and logs piled around the nascent flames. The Goblin has only just returned from a quick run through the forest, bearing a refilled waterskin, and a brace of rabbits. Murder's first thoughts are on the fire, as she settles on a log there, to warm her hands and feet, even removing her boots to do so.

Tlanexhuani did tend the fire late into the night, less it sputter and fade. Perhaps too late, as the blue-scale is propped semi-upright upon his spear and dozing when the gobber woke. It is not until she returns and the log is dropped that he starts and straightens, looking around while blinking. Throat is cleared and there is a shiver beneath scales, causing a brief scraping against splints. "Iss rain always so cold?"

Murder smiles beatifically as the Sith comes awake, blinking. The Gobbo disappears from view for a moment, returning with a blanket, which she jumps up to wrap around Tlan's shoulders. "No, it's nicer in the Spring and Summer, where it is still a little chill, but it is awesome in the heat. I know the winter must be hard on you." She pats at his knee a moment. "Hungry?" Her waterskin is offered up. "Fresh water. Cold."

"Different," Tlanexhuani offers an alternative. "Many things are hard, must adapt. Cold is same." Not that he does not appreciate the blanket or the pat. "Ssa," he hisses amusedly. "My thanks." He accepts the skin, lifts it and head to pour some into open maw. More teeth and less lips mean that 'sipping' is not really a thing. "Rest well, wee one?"

Murder grins and nods. "Yes, different. You probably don't get such cold in Am'shere, yes? I'm from the north, and it still gets to me. I've been spoiled, a little, by the city, with protective walls, fireplaces and hot drinks. Easy to keep warm." A giggle is had as he drinks. "Drink all you need, the stream is not far."

She's quiet for a time while she dresses the rabbits, a little awkward on the cutting, but it's a proper dressing in the end. The skins are kept and stretched out over a frame, while the offal is dropped into a hole, likely for such a purpose. The meat is skewered and set over the fire to roast.

"Yes. Harkashan is nice and warm to snuggle up to, he kept his tail near me. After a while, I guess he left, I woke up in my li'l leanto. Did you sleep at all?"

Tlanexhuani drinks his fill, though doesn't empty the skin, and sets it aside as Murder is cleaning the rabbits. "Ssa. It is said hatchings need much sleep, younglings not sso much. Less with age. This one need little rest. Leave more for the young." There is a grunt after as he straightens more upright and stretches, to include tail briefly extending out before curling back again. Claws gesture to the cooking rabbits. "You are hunter?"

The Goblin eyes Tlanexhuani at length, and then grins toothily. "How old do you think I am?", Murder wonders while taking a moment to tend to the cooking rabbit meat. She nods then, "Indeed! I hunted the boar we had for dinner last night, and these rabbits were caught in traps I have hidden around here." She gestures at the snow. "They make burrows under the snow, and run around, takes some sneaky to catch them."

at the beginning there."

Tlanexhuani did not expect the question and blinks before eyeing Murder more critically. His head tilts to one side, then the other. Clawtips then stroke under his chin. Eventually, he completes his analysis. "This one does not know softskins. Very new to this one. Hear many tales for many years, but tales not always truth." The talk of traps and prey he does know something of, claws pointing. "Ssa! You have cunning of hunter. This one, not so cunning. Why always hungry!" A fresh series of little hisses with this.

Murder grins, "Sounds like you just need to hunt bigger prey." She offers up five skewers, each holding two or three bite portions of rabbit. "Goblins are considered an adult at the age of eight summers. We tend to die before we get to sixty-five summers. I have seen ... er.. twenty-five summers."

Tlanexhuani listens, first snorting in amusement at the first part, then listening with tail flicking lightly at the soft-skin educational portion. He thinks on this, exhales. "You are not youngling. This one not think you were." Now he moves his legs and makes to stand up, mostly, for the first time this day. His spear is very helping and there is some groaning and complaining. Mostly from his knees as his maw is mostly quiet.

"Hrunk. This one has had many seasons. Call many young, but not to offend. This one envy."

Murder stares at his knees and the noises they make. "Goodness, it's like they are about to rebel and run off without you." She grins up at him. "And they sure built you tall. I could see my house from up there, if I sat on your shoulders." She wiggles those skewers under his nose. "Breakfast is ready! And I am glad you stayed overnight. It was good of you to do that."

More light hisses of mirth. "Knees want this one shorter. Less burden to carry." He then crouches, more comfortable for both hostess and knees (he hopes). Claws move to chest in thanks before he takes the offered skewer. He did say he was always hungry, and starts with stripping most of the rabbit free from the stick and chewing.

"This one was happy to. Fire was warm, rain cold. Others shared words of many threats. You are mighty... but not so when sleeping." Now the rest of the skewer is cleaned. "Looked ill to this one, also?" A vague motion with the stick, as if he isn't sure whether she was or was not; because softskin. "This one tended small, wounded, ill, for many seasons."

She looks pleased to see him eat, and she moves to climb up and settle on one of his knees. Her weight is probably not all that noticeable. "I was sad. A friend died, and they could not resurrect her. I think she has gone to a good place, if she has not, I would go and get her. There was naught but ash left of her. I hope to see her again, some day, when it is my turn to pass through the curtain of death to the afterlife." A tear trickles down her cheek, and is joined by one on the other cheek. "It's not fair. She shouldn't be dead, she deserves better..."

Tlanexhuani has no qualms with a knee being taken; neither he nor it complain. At the shift in words to sadness, he stills. After several breaths. "None are forever. Not here. There," he adds, more firmly, lifting a claw to the sky. "There, all are forever. For us, returned to The Flame that feeds new life." A comment meant to comfort and assure that comes to him with practiced ease.

After a breath or two, he adds, "This one is sorry for your loss. Life is life. Can look fair one time, not so another." Claws wave to the spits. "We must eat. Rabbits not think is fair."

The Gobbo sits still, nodding slowly, before she shuffles closer, leaning against his chest. And then, the tears come in earnest.