Things have gotten better in the world since his sacrifice that had lead him and Wardruna to the rune.

They have yet to be called to action, though with the 'birth' of her pups drawing nearer Vitus prayed it would not be too soon, or that only he would be called forward by the gods of Mythris to spare his aunt from being separated from her young. But until they did, the rune was safe in his den, set delicately amongst his tools and skulls.

He would make a sacrifice before the queen was called back to the tree, for the children, that they would be spared from whatever curse was upon the Stormborn name that led so many of their blood to early deaths. But before he did so, he would commune with the old gods.

The winter was bitter cold, far, far colder than it should be. Cold that cut through even his thicker coat, driving him to move his...cultivations....to the warmer caverns hidden within the mountain, rather than the back of his newer large den. The mushrooms he had learned, helped him see, helped him guide, but the frost has stunted their growth.

So he's only taken a small amount, leaving the rest in the warmth to grow for spring, but the effects are already hitting him as he makes his way back towards his den and the lion skull within. Shifts of colour, of wings, ice wolves charging at him with their maws open and disappearing before actual impact. Something is trying to fight back, it was clear, but as he continued walking he heard the pawsteps of the ancestors crunching in the snow around him.

He was sure it was just them, at least, as he slipped into the maw of his den with the massive skull in the center, putting his paw on it's bleach white surface and breathing deep.