Blacktail Deer Plateau Soft warmly straw raincoat

"I dunno," he replied doubtfully, "it worked for me..." Even as he spoke, he felt one of the little buggers burrowing in his rump. He arched around to nip at the spot. "Kinda," he amended sheepishly before breaking into a chortle. "And winter? Really? I'll rip off my skin before then... though I guess I have you to pick them off me," he rambled, knowing his wife had probably tuned him out about twenty words ago.

Fox redirected his attention to the task at hand: hunting. "Whatever presents itself," he answered. "I'm feeding Atticus," he explained, taking a breath. "If we catch something larger—like a fawn, for example—you and I could have a romantic little lunch and then take the rest to him and Willow," he suggested in an upbeat voice.