The hunger was like salt in the wound, stinging and sharp in his gut. Gershom had followed a herd of mule deer for several days by this point, hoping one would lag behind far enough for him to take by surprise. Elk had proved too strong, and pronghorn were, unsurprisingly, too fast for a single fatigued man to hunt. Bighorns were a little slower, but the last thing he wanted was to get rammed in the stomach. That was more likely to be a death sentence with how weak he had become.

With the deer coming to a stop down in the marsh- too wet and muddy for Gershom to hunt in- he stopped to rest his weary body on a damp stone. The cold chilled him to the bone. Every aching step was a reminder of just how quickly and completely his life had become unraveled. He once thought of himself as a strong leader, but was this what he truly was? Had he always been so... weak, so pathetic?

Hunger gnawed. His hands trembled. His pack needed somebody, and now he was no longer sure that he could measure up. He was not a warrior; he was a priest. Had been, anyways. He couldn't say for certain what he was now other than a pariah.

The deer seemed to taunt him, grazing on marsh vegetation as he unrolled the last of the dried mutton he'd purchased from a Granite Pass merchant. They had been kind to him, sneaking in an extra quarter pound of meat he knew he didn't deserve. When he tried to pay them for it, they pretended not to hear him while scaling the precarious cliffs he dared not traverse.

With a sigh, he ate, knowing this was the last of the meat in his knapsack. After this, it was hard cheese, stale bread, and a ball of condensed soup he had no means of heating. Why had he traded that pot away? Why hadn't he realized just how badly he would need it?

Perhaps life had been trying to let him down gently. He had served the Maiden, Mother, and Crone all his life, devout to their ways, to their moon and stars. Perhaps the three had decided his time with Mother was over, and the Crone was too sentimental to simply cut the anchor.

He looked to the sky, the warmth of the sun just beginning to dip behind forested hills. Begging hadn't done him much good lately. They didn't seem to be listening.

Still, he begged again, a simple "my people need me" before returning to his scant meal.