Magic? In This Economy?

"We really should have brought someone with a bow," Vance muttered, as he eyeballed what looked like a flock? A herd? Some grouping of creatures that closely resembled ostriches. "Could've hunted for food." However, he wasn't certain how edible they were.

"We have Ronan," I offered, grinning despite the exhaustion gnawing at me. "Remember the deer?"

Nythera winced at the memory of not too long ago, when they last contemplated hunting for food. "You mean–" she trailed off, the haunting gaze of that poor creature's last moments burnt into her mind.

Vance groaned like the memory physically hurt him. "The one Ronan hit with a fucking fireball."

Nythera's brow furrowed, and even Ronan turned his head slightly, as if vaguely recalling the event. "It was effective," Ronan said flatly.