the world does not care about you or me

Fatigue started to tug at the fox's body as he made his way through what he believed was a marsh. With the destruction the storm managed to stir up, he wouldn't be surprised that the place used to be some kind of shallow lake or forest. Scratch felt himself become further unsteady as he made his way through the land. So far, he has been lucky of whom he had met, with most of them injured from the storm. It would be just his luck to run into something that managed to get out unscathed. He felt his maw tighten on the wooden splinter he found beforehand. Even in this terrain, if he could sharpen his senses for a short bit, he would be able to bound out of there with little difficulty. Still, if anyone managed to sneak up on him, he would have to use the splinter fend off the attacker. With the blood stained on his fur dulling his sense of smell and the constant rustling of the forest, he wouldn't be able to detect any enemy with a sense of stealth in mind.