[With the winter as it is Zevran has given up on hunting with any manner of regularity. He does, however, need to find and pack up most of the traps he has yet left in the woods as snow becomes a regular occurrence. He is making the rounds in the outer edges of the woods when he sees something irregular- tracks. Not from an animal, no, but the odd stumbling steps of a man wounded or ill. He follows these with caution until he comes across-]
[Action]
Spock?
[He certainly does not look well.]
Spock!