Kilugna scampered off to fetch wood for everyone, mindful of the warning from James. She decided to stay nearby, scuffling across the ground and snatching twigs and small branches out of the snowy ground. They were wet, terrible for fires, but maybe she could dry them off enough in her shelter that they would serve the clan well in the morning. She picked up her pace until her arms were sagging and aching with all the wood they held, and then she scrambled back for her hut as the snow picked up. 
---
The scout glanced over at Martin. "You are of Bisonskull, yes? You look like you may be of high blood. What brings you to Crowhead?" His tone was curious and not at all threatening, but he certainly was on guard. He became more aware of the knife bumping softly against his thigh. As the walls loomed closer and closer ahead, the scout caught up with his fellows, who were waiting for the heavy gates to swing open in their ponderous manner.