"It... is not enough," he grants, the movement of the bandages that cover his face suggesting an abrupt, hard shift of his jaws required to broker sound. Strain has not dissuaded him from the conversation — as if he has learned, over the years, to navigate his hurts.

"The hunger will grow." With the crops faltering, he need not say, with the heat sickness. "But... for now. Learn to hunt. Feed the weak."

A proud, strong man stands before the Beastmaster. Let him make himself of use.