[center][b][u]Snow Brutes[/u]

Era of Dud's Great Tribe
Population: 251 in Village, 24 going South,  24 going East[/b]

The Southern group cheers as the pops and crackles of a large rodent over the fire reminds them of a meal on it's way. In the following weeks after the discovery of the ability to blend into the green, the Brutes had found all sorts of new hunts. Rodents triple the size of the snow rodents they were use to, swift brown creatures, some with antlers, some without, and giant brown beasts, with jaws like a snow  hound and great paws with dangerous claws,  vicious creatures.  The hunters thoroughly enjoy the new hunts, while the warriors find glory in battling the Brown Beasts. The tool makers focus on attempting to fashion new weapons and tools with the materials around them. 

Back at the village, Dud stands with Rog and Fur discussing a rising problem. 
"There are less and less Jeks bone and hide for huts, Dud.", says Rog.
"I know,  Rog I know. This is why we sent out the two groups, for new hunts." Dud replies,  a little worriedly but still confident in his plan. 
"We need fixing to problem until groups return.", Fur comments, "I say deeper, longer hunts in the Whiteness, less huts."
Dud begins thinking....

The Eastern group has been plagued with constant blizzards and they have lost their way. The group lost sight of Huu days ago. The blizzards have even kept them from hunting. So tired and homesick, tensions are high. 
"Where is glory!? Glory not here!! Only white!!! White, white white!!!" roars a Brute warrior. "Calm yourself. Not enough energy for this.", weakly replies a hunter. "Calm!? Hunter sounds like Dud! The Jek hide that sent us here!", screams the warrior. In a fit a rage,  the warrior swings his stone axe, splitting the other Brute's head in half, brains and blue blood staining the snow. Immediately, a spear from another hunter pierces the enraged Brute's side. The warrior blindly swings, catching a tool maker in the cheek, splattering his face upon the white. Soon enough, there is an all out brawl, Brute attacking Brute, reenacting the centuries of war that plagued the race. However, one warrior refuses to fight. She is blended into the snowy background, observing the chaos. Her name is Faw. "There is no glory in this," Faw says under her breath. With that, she turns in the opposite direction and just starts walking. She isn't sure where, but anywhere  away from the foolish, non-glorious bloodshed is better. [/center]