The first snows of the season.
[Isley is standing out back of his home, between his property and the stretch of land that is the newly whitewashed Hunting Grounds.]
Were it up to me, I would never see the snow melt. [Holding out his hand, white flurries settle upon Isley's skin. They soon turn from fat flakes and into beads of cool water that
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[Excluding the differences in their diet.]
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