The December days grew colder and colder.
When he woke in the morning, a layer of white frost coated the ground.
Leech had already switched to his thicker clothes. He was draped in a greatcoat made from red fox fur.
The fur was courtesy of the foxes of Porcupine Territory.
It was hard to say whether Pitz's abilities were lacking, as if she hadn't invested enough points in her language talent, or if the foxes simply refused to communicate with her. Either way, Pitz had never been able to converse with the foxes.
Not that the foxes were completely useless. They had provided Leech with plenty of new, warm clothes for the winter, and he was very satisfied with the tailor's craftsmanship.
Today was a good day.
The Ghost Finger Grass in the Cape Grotto had ripened.
Following the records in his books, he had the Corpse Ghosts harvest the Ghost Grass.
The Cape Grotto was now filled with a spreading toxic gas, making it unsuitable for any living creature to enter.
