Fox's Glade a lotta men didn't; a lotta men died

"Not so bad yourself," Day replied, spitting out his own catch and taking stock of the situation. They were both bleeding, but it was nothing too serious. It would keep until they got home. The foxes they'd caught were all healthy, and under their fur, he was sure they were strong and plump. It seemed that, despite the bad weather, their sun-kissed cousins had been doing well for themselves. "C'mon - home's a-wait'n," he sighed, picking up his kill and heading off toward the Stone Circle. They'd be back in no time, and Day was glad for it.

Fade?