Hideaway Strath patio season

A brace of squirrels hung from his ruddy muzzle, which itself was streaked with blood and mud. In fact, the mud coated most of Dingo's forequarter and where it had dried, the fur stood at little peaks. He had worked hard to chase down these squirrels and he was in a foul mood because of it — having very little interest in work to begin with. He paced and glared over the awkardly twisted shapes of the rodents, journeying through the woods to a branch of one of the familiar border trails, and then picked up the pace. Dingo recognized a segment of the 'strath and immediately felt more comfortable. A part of him knew he should've been finding a cache and filling it, but he wanted to sequester himself for a nap, and he wanted to gorge himself on the fresh meat before anyone caught him on a break.