Chapter 1 - Cold Ambition: Hibernation Ends

[Vardaen]

Laughing Grey Fox takes the skin and polishes it off. For the rest of the night the Bear Hunters are laughing and joking, drinking and eating. Eventually the festivities comes to a close and one by men fall asleep where they are sitting or manage to make it home. The morning will come quick now, as the fun has gone late into the night, long after he children have fallen asleep and the woman have gone home.

Broken Stone manages to crawl into his own bed here in his home, but many others simply pass out where they are sitting around the fire. Flint Striker, perhaps one of them.

[JohnnyWeird]

More than a little drunk and filled with the merriment of manhood, Flint Striker stumbles out of the lodge. He's fallen asleep on that floor more than once, and may tonight as well, but he has a destination in mind.

Coming to the Women's House, he comes to a particular spot along the wall, then crouches low to the ground. "Telani!" He whispers, his voice almost comically soft in the wind of the night, "There's a man to see you!"

[Vardaen]

Flint Striker staggers to the house of a woman that he like, and finds himself crouched down at the wall of her home. Whispering he calls to her comically soft, but eventually the front flap of the home opens up, a young woman pokes her head out of the building. "Flint Striker? What are you doing here?" She is whispering softly as well, "You'll wake my father up...shhhh." He puts her finger to her lip.

[JohnnyWeird]

"You look so beautiful in the moonlight. I wanted to see you before I left." Often friendly and sweet to Telani, Flint Striker has been given courage by the wine and the merriment. "Tomorrow I am going to Seal Tribe lands. I will bring something back for you!"

[Vardaen]

With a blanket of fur wrapped tightly around her she shivers slightly sticking out of the buildings front flap. "You better bring me back something pretty. I hear the Seal have very nice scrimshaw combs." She touches her hair, long and dark, lightly and then turns and looks inside. "Someone is awake...Shhhhhh." He puts her finger to her lips and them silently mouths the words, 'Good Bye.' She pauses as if to say more, but then slips back inside where Flint Striker can hear some movement.

[JohnnyWeird]

Not a spark's luck, thinks the youth as he slides into the shadows and crouches low. With the cloak of white ice-bear fur and the darkness on his side, Flint Striker hopes to avoid a drowsy eye gone searching. The feeling of her finger on his lips thrills him, and he reflects on how much he has to sell or trade for a scrimshaw comb.

[Vardaen]

Flint Striker slips back into the snowy night. From his hiding point he watches as Telani's father pokes his head out of the house's front door and gazes around suspiciously before pulling the flap closed tight and vanishing inside. The youth has a long day ahead of him, and the thought of how much a comb might cost him in trade runs through his mind.

Its time to get inside again as well, his fingers and toes are starting to get cold, the Hoarwine warmth wearing off finally...

[JohnnyWeird]

Flint Striker waits to make sure that Great Roar, Telani's father, has gone back to sleep, then makes his way back to the lodge of Broken Stone. Best to sleep where he'd rise. Though he bears Great Roar no ill will, he knows that he's no father's idea of a good son-in-law.

[Vardaen]

Flint Stiker returns to the hut of BRoken Stone and finds himself a place to curl up. He promptly falls asleep.

When the morning comes he wakes to the smell of cooking bacon. The backfat bacon of a wild warthog is one of the tribes prized meals, and the other hunters are already chowing down on the morning breakfast prepaired by the woman. It seems Flint Striker has overslept, too much wine, and being up too late has caused him to be the last one up. The hunters haven't waited for him, most are finishing their meals and are ready to leave in only a few minutes.

Noticing Flint Striker waking up, Broken Stone laughs, "Our little cub hs finally woken up! How is your head!" His head in fact is pouding, and the hang over from Hoarwine is something terrible to behold.

[JohnnyWeird]

Flint Striker grins ruefully, trying to be a man among other men. "A Seal hunter's club would be more merciful." He rubs his temples slowly. "At least then the pounding would stop."

As fast as he can given his condition, he makes ready to go, breakfast (if any remains) hastily eaten as other tasks are seen to.