In search for the traps he had laid out he walked quietly, keeping an eye out for some wolves or bears that were hungry enough to wade through meters of snow. He doubted a heavy bear would actually be able to walk on the snow, since he himself could only walk with snowshoes.

Although he sometimes cursed living high up in the mountains instead of the village, in the dead of winter he liked it, since it meant that no one would, or rather could, raid their traps. A possible thief would have to work his way to the forest for several days, and no one was that desperate.

After several hours he rested on a rock near a frozen creek. A few rabbits and squirrels had left their comfortable lairs and ran into the traps, but the majority of the traps were empty. The dead animals hung on a rope around his waist.

Pondering about settling somewhere between the cabin and the village he looked around, until his eyes hinged up on something odd.

Tracks.

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