Blacktail Deer Plateau Soft warmly straw raincoat

It felt more like October than August this morning, as Peregrine slipped furtively through the misty morning wood. The air was cool and the sky was a washed-out color somewhere between white and gray. He enjoyed the respite from the heat, as it was particularly conducive to vigorous activities, like lovemaking—which was how he'd welcomed the day with his fleabitten wife—and hunting, which he was doing now in order to fetch breakfast for Atticus.

So far, he hadn't struck a trail. He moved closer to the territory's rear, where the plateau met the mountains. There were a few game trails back here that were not used quite as much as those nearer to the land's heart. He found the head of one and dropped his nose as he walked, combing for the scent of prey.