Galadriel took the knife without objection and inclined her head. A sled would certainly make the hauling easier, but it would also permit them to continue once the pelts were stripped away. She was glad for Katniss's foresight; she had planned on carrying them two by two, as they were felled, but this was much simpler.

"Very well," Galadriel agreed as she drew her bow over her head and slung it across her back. "I do not know if my last arrow survived. Reclaim it, if it did?"

With that, she turned her attention from the archer and to the rams. Their limbs were thin and delicate--for meat and marrow they had value, but the leather would be less than strips. She knelt by the doe and ran her hand along its side, tested the give of its skin, and decided how it would be best parted out. Without further pause, she drew the knife down the length of it and began cutting away the pelt.

Blood, like most things, was not of concern to Galadriel. The activity resulted in no small amount of ichor, and while it stained the snow a vivid shade of crimson, none of it managed to stick to her for very long.

"Have you come upon any wolves?" Galadriel called. The forest was very quiet and, as if in response to the question, distant barking echoed off the cliffs.