Eikthyrnir digs at the snow with his silver hoof, eventually a few blades of grass poke out of the white powder, then The Stag bends his head down and eats them. Eikthyrnir then brought his head back up and looked around the woods, it was winter, that means he had to return to Säraothgar soon, shame, he's always liked the grass on earth better, but the grass there was good too. The Stag decided to stay a little while longer, perhaps another week or two, bless some mortals with his presence, curse the ones who shoot at him, perhaps even find a doe to spend some time with