The Medicine Seller didn't need to change back right before entering the warm (albeit not as warm as it had been when the fire was going) cabin, and was less inclined to curse the cold. Instead, he took a moment to shake the snow out his fur, set the hare to the side and stretch.

The Medicine Seller, now less fuzzy but looking a little disheveled from their evening stroll, stood on two legs, gingerly flexing his fingers to get warmth back into them. He then got relatively dressed in his light green juban, and layered it with the quilted and cozy hanten, collected the hare and joined Arthur by the hearth while picking fur out his teeth.

"I am thoroughly reminded why I prefer to set snares and traps," he remarked.

"It is a little thin. Probably better in stew than roasted."