Daryl would have to agree. History and government is the kind of stuff nobody much cares about when your life's down to the wire. They'd tried to teach some at the prison, but it hadn't been worth much. Daryl nods, standing. "Alright, professor. Show you a simple one."

He moves away from the trap he just finished, deeming it too complex for an academic, and keeps his eyes to the ground, searching for tracks or furrows. Animals leave evidence of their passing, and it's always better to place traps in areas that see heavy use. He whistles and points to a divot in the ground. The snow is worn off it, revealing a shallow exposure of raw earth and dead grass. "Must run through here plenty; worn the snow right off."

He looks up carefully to see if Duv is following.