Maybe it's just his guilt that's made Wrench want to hide his work. He doesn't think she'll read into his thoughts and try to uncover the meaning behind what he's doing here. For all intents and purposes, that seems evident. The hunting might not be necessary for him, of course, but someone in Solvunn's going to do it. If he bartered for his meals he might be a few more steps removed from the brutality of the killing, but it won't change what's necessary. And even if he has taken more than he knows he needs, it's clear he's also taken pains not to waste any.

When Wanda turns back around, he's glad she doesn't ask him about it. Wrench's shoulders relax, and he finds himself distracted by another little bit of information that reveals something fascinating about her. Ten? he confirms, first by signing it properly, then holding up both hands with all of his fingers splayed. That's young. O-K, O-K. I'll tell you the truth. I promise.

And then he finds his mind full again. It's such an imperceptible shift. Wrench knows Wanda could have been in there a long time before she said anything, but he doesn't know the mechanics of how. It doesn't feel the same when he thinks back at her. He's sure she's the one reaching in, not him.

First winter in Solvunn. I don't know what to expect, but thought I should be prepared.