Sun Mote Copse The flesh is weak

In the cold days of winter, carving out a den was hardly the task for a thing thin and weak as he, but somehow he had done it. Well, not without the help of a pesky old badger. He had not the brute force to break it under his own weight, but he had enough hemlock to rid himself of mustelid threat, its body in a heap outside the up-pushed roots, slowly being buried in a pile of dirt as he painstakingly carved out his little doctor's office.