Rabbits were an interesting challenge, too small to bother with when the family was hunting for themselves, so he was out of practice with just how good at dodging they were. There was more than one muttered curse in the darkening woods and there's a long streak of mud up one leg from an injudicious slide along a creek bed, but he holds up a brace of three rabbits, intact, necks broken.

"Surely did," he says with satisfaction, continuing through to the kitchen to lay them out on the drainboard next to the sink, then reappears in the doorway and pauses, tilting his head again as he takes in the posture, the low light, the emotions darting through her like the flames from her fire. Whatever had happened out in the world, it's hit her deep. It's left her drifting.

"I'd offer to sort these out for you, but you look like you might welcome the distraction," he adds more quietly.