With the other members of the group occupied with their work Red sets into a rhythm of his own. He keeps to himself in camp from morning till dinner.
His days start by leaving food out for the local birds. Admiring how they can achieve such great heights.
He then sets into morning prep for his spells. Tracing a focus circle with runes. Reviewing his spell book, arranging various item of his. Letting his mind wander on what new spells he might be able to write into his book.
He then sets to cleaning any hides the rangers have brought back. From the smallest rodent, to the largest of game. Cleaning and prepping them as best he can. This works calms the part of Red that missed the protection of his armor. His mind drifts to ways to protect himself that way his armor used to.
Each day Red focuses on a sets of his skill. Starting with metal, weapons. Moving on to stone and masonry. Spending time on polishing and sharping his metal tools. Repairing his ropes. Cleaning all of his gear. Taking the axe to a tree to prep a nice long beam of wood.
He learns early on in the first week he can keep the cold at bay through a little magic. He continues to focus on that thread, hoping to improve his ability there.
As the days move on he finds one bird that seems to stick around, to be interested? A small bird. With a pleasant chirp. He feeds it more. Whistles back to it. Funny bird.
Inspired by the scrolls he has read so far he takes to marking in the ground, practicing the three parts: the core, the modifier and the anchor. Lost for a few hours each day in tracing, wiping clean and trying again.
He ends his days sitting at the edge of camp up in a tree. Watching the bird flutter around in the near by tree tops. He can sense the bird is happy, is curious. He decides to build a small stand and nest for the bird on the edge of camp, near where he sleeps.
During the second week things are much the same. He finished prepping the tree into a nice beam. He clears away the debris, putting it into the fire pit. He steps back and intones a word, trace around the beam and it become but a walking stick. Shrunk down in all ways to something very manageable. Red smiles deeply. That is a trick!
The days float by. Everything Red cares about feels a little easier. The bird he now considers a friend. He grants the bird a name. He finally settles one some new entries in his spell book.
Despite the nip of cold and the uncertain future, the uncertain present.. Red is content.