“It’s good for seasons like this, bigger, safer, cleaner preservation sites, people to borrow wood and water from, sometimes you don’t want to go out in the snow and spend all day with nothing more substantial than the contents of rabbit traps.” Busqueda replied softly. “But the spring with people who aren’t as good as you crashing around chasing off the decent prey can sometimes write that off, but then everyone is learning.”
“Yeah, I suppose it was, it’s the anniversary of so many deaths, it’s like celebrating the end of everything, I don’t get it.” Busqueda shook out his shoulders, by the Pulse he’d already lost everyone, but the Pulse had robbed him of the hope of getting any of the back.