Stitches wipes his forehead with the back of one of his hands. Who knew working in the blistering cold could be just as sweat intensive as anywhere else? He lifts the half shovel from its rest in an upright position in the other hand and hoists it with both hands, bringing it down to pat down the dirt which he had dug up. It was a small grave, but it was big enough for the fox's mother, and deep enough in the frozen ground to deter anything from feasting on it. It took him the lions share half of the day, but it was done. He pants gently, looking down to the side of the grave, where the kit sit obediently on his coiled up cloak. Stitches sighs and tosses the tool aside, leaning down to scoop the kit up into his arms with a gentle smile. He turns to step back towards the camp, and Bread, his gaze caught on the tiny animal. He runs his fingers over its upturned belly in his arms like a newborn babe, "Now..." He whispers quietly, "What to call you, little tyke?"
The kit seems content with the small altered belly rub for a moment, then looks around, as if forgetting where it was and what was going on, letting itself give off a childish and mellow squeak. Stitches moves his fingers to scratch under the creatures chin, "Don't worry, little one, I've got you now, I won't let go."
This seems to be enough to the impressionable animal, and it tilts his head, looking up with yellow eyes to Stitches, and whimpers. Stitches breathes out a quiet breath, stopping for a moment to look back into the orbs of the kit. There is a moment of calm, where even the snow blowing in the wind about them seems to move slower. Stitches smiles, whispering to the thing, "Oh...I think it's just come to me, little thing." He claims.
The man is alone, in the snow, and cold. It hadn't hit him yet, but he has only really spoken to himself for weeks. Sure, asking for directions and whereabouts to locals and such had happened, but his only real conversations were with himself and the demons in his head. Perhaps he's hearing voices, and going mad, and if only he could see it he might do anything about it.
"Itharius." Stitches says with a smile, "I'll call you Itharius."
