“It’s a game if you fill your heart with joy,” Beric said looking out on the tundra. Fat flakes covered the pair atop the cliff. Beric counted thirteen days of spent rations in his bag earlier that morning. They were getting close to the end.

“ Beric… we’re talking about hunting humans. Have a little decency,” a straw thin man said from under a fur blanket.

“Rune, you say it like you’re not out here with me.” Rune gave Beric the stink eye before burrowing deeper in to the blanket.

“We don’t have to make jokes about it…”

“Fine. I’ll leave the warm, cuddly feelings alone. We can talk about all the gloomy things you want. Should I start with the downfall of the empire if we don’t catch these men?”

“Don’t get on your moral high horse. If you left things alone we wouldn’t even be out here.”

“And where would the fun have been in that? Stuck in the city. Debasing yourself for political favors. Bah! None of that out here,” Beric said with a sweep of his arm. “Nothing but honesty lives in these woods.”

“I wish you had stayed a poet,” Rune moaned. “At least then I would have gotten some wine to go along with this drawn out excuse.”

“You needed more than an appetite for court maids and rare vintages to stay a poet in our town, brother.”

“How do you explain Hilario then?”

“An abundance of talent and natural grace like an avian dance?”

“Should we do something about that man getting away?” Beric turned to look at the man staggering towards the icy river.

“Shit, can’t let the bastard drown. I didn’t trek all the way out here for empty ol pockets and shitty hymns.”