I am not a scholar and I don't believe in fate
Oliver's eagerness brought a kind of thrill to Noah's heart that he didn't really know he could feel. To have someone sitting there, awestruck and seeking more stories from him who had no (to his knowledge) experience of hunting on the tundra just made Noah want to talk about it all. Noah loved hunting--loved gaining the knowledge of his prey's habits and characteristics, loved providing for people, loved being out on the tundra--and now he was discovering he loved sharing about hunting. "When I was about 12, there was a pack of wolves picking off a lot of the luxere population. My father took a small group out--him, myself, and two others--to find the wolves one day. We stalked them for a while before we discovered they were stalking an ursur. It as incredible. The wolves were starting to pick off their own competition." He took a sip of whiskey. "It took hours, but we continued to follow the pack until they came upon the ursur. We watched this huge bear and this pack of wolves-- like 6 or 8 of them -- fight each other. By the time the ursur fell half of the wolves were dead and the rest were so tired that it was easy for us to pick off the rest." He leaned back in his chair again. "That's the only time I have seen predators gang up on each other like that."
It was a truly remarkable story. But, what the non-Halovian said was interesting, too. "Hmmm, a blacksmith. We had a blacksmith...but he died when the Citadel was attacked before Deepfrost." Noah frowned for a moment. "You from the Hollwoed Grounds?" He asked, though he felt he already knew the answer. The man was muchtoo pale to have been from Torchline.
NOAH
