Fox's Glade You were there, impossibly alone.

For Xan!

As the sun began its descent, falling gradually to dip below the mountains and painting the clear Autumn sky in pastel shades of pink and lilac, Talion sought a place to settle for the evening. He'd spent the entire day exploring, travelling further from the coast to see what the land there had to offer, and so far had found nothing of note. He was in no great hurry, however. There was still prey aplenty and he'd hunted regularly in effort to stock up fat reserves to survive the coming Winter, should he fail to integrate with a pack before then.

In the distance, the familiar cry of a fox sounded. The young Roux-Abrhen ignored it and trudged on, nose to the ground to test the area for any sign that the glade may be claimed, and was glad to find no fresh scent of his own species. It meant he could stop and rest for a few hours, and he was prompt to find a safe place to do just that: a fallen tree, partly hollowed, where he could curl up and keep warm.

Pale gaze scanned his surroundings quickly, and when he caught sight of a small stream he realised how dry his mouth felt. Talion made his way toward the water source and dipped his head to drink, lapping the cool surface and allowing himself the opportunity to relax.