The tripe to Annesburg had yielded a good deal of supplies - the Medicine Seller traded his tinctures and tonics, potions and poultices, and other ointments for tools, food, clothing, and materials they'd need in the coming months. When he and Arthur rendezvous'd, he'd greeted him with a warm coat and a sturdy pair of boots. There were a few shirts, a pair of trousers and suspenders, leather gloves, and a rather handsome belt buckle, but those could wait until they returned home.

The days passed easily in one another's company; there was always work to do around the place; when Arthur hunted, the Medicine Seller saw to patching up any drafty cracks with clay and straw and any other repairs. When the Medicine Seller was down by the lake fishing, Arthur would see to Buell and chopping wood for the fire. It wasn't long until the cabin was filled with both their touches; pelts and drying herbs, meat and fish to be salted and preserved, and the cabin growing more and more into something like a home.

Normally the Medicine Seller would pass these chilly months with only an uptick in libido, but he was having trouble not taking every opportunity to have his wicked way with Arthur on every vaguely flat surface.

When they were snowed in, he was particularly insatiable when he wasn't crafting aromatics or medicine to trade when the weather cleared.