Ezra was on another hunt this day. No longer living in the tundra, he could not supply himself with an abundance of lichen, nor the berries or purple flowers he would soak in water in order to relieve his "pain". These same plants of pasque and monkshood were not this far south, he came to realize. However, with it being far less bitter cold for so long, he had a hope that while he might have to change up his supply, it might be available for far longer.

Though as one might have thought, it was not a hunt for herbs he sought today. Instead, he hunted down the trail of a new man in town (well there was many newbies with the merger and all). One older, one with a heavily defined limp, as himself. Ezra was curious. How well had this man survived with his ailment? How did he get it? What did he do to relieve it? Would Ezra too, one day look so worn and broken?

He had been creepily stalking the man without addressing him for days now until finally... How long have you been like this? Ezra spat out flatly as he drew nearer, a bloodied gaze studying the man's shoulder.