Two more days passed peacefully. The arrival of the Stannar Tribe hadn't caused any internal changes in the Grymdale Tribe. However, the trials brought on by the rainy season grew ever more severe, with new problems emerging one after another.
The most pressing issue was that the tribe's food reserves were starting to run low.
Elias Moretti stared into The Larder Cave. The stench was overwhelming. The hunted game had grown damp, accelerating its decay. If this went on, the rotting meat would be inedible in a matter of days.
Gable leaned on his Witch Staff, his brow deeply furrowed. "We must find a way to hunt."
With the exception of Evangeline and her two males, food in the tribe was distributed collectively.
