This man before him was no soft thing -- he had the muscles and callouses of a person who worked in the earth, with their hands. He wondered what kind of trade this man worked as he spoke, trying to bring his mind back to focus on what he was saying. The name he mentioned seemed halfway familiar, a memory of a memory, but he didn't spend too much energy on it. The hunter laughed some, a smile breaking his cool features. "There aren't many crops that grow here in Deepfrost. Even with abandoned magic, the cold is too much and everything they can grow or create is tasteless and with less nutrition." He shook his head. "But, if you really need something that grows in Deepfrost, there are some mosses and lichens you can find year round in different parts of the Fangs."
Henry's demeanor changed some as he went on, though, revealing more of his purpose. "Oh?" Noah merely asked, leaning forward some, intrigued.
