so are the cannibals still a thing or

While the task at had was far from pleasant, it was good to be in the Tundra again. Morgan drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders and peered out into the white horizon; Whitebrim was visible on the edge of it, close now. Looking back to Neron and Deimos, she pointed it out; Eunike next to her snorted and tossed her head as if trying to make it extra obvious for them. "There. We should approach carefully. Do we have any way to look on from afar?"

She looked to each of them. As far as Neron's presence, she'd told Deimos that she'd decided he may as well be useful, that he might make good bait in an emergency; Neron was under strict instructions not to reveal anything about his Spymaster title or their relationship. Hopefully, they'd all manage to keep it professional. The mission was simple: see if Whitebrim was still home to cannibal exiles after the attempt to starve them out. It had been a long while now; if they were going to starve, they would have done.

"Perhaps, Deimos, you could briefly fly over the village...?" She asked, remembering her General's Attuned abilities. "Not too close, in case they have somehow managed to discover ranged weapons and targeting in this last year."

MORGAN

Snakes are biting at my heels
The worries that refuse to let us go