Fox's Glade Magical musical break-up hospital

It smelled like foxes here. Of course, that was probably due to the myriad foxes living in the area. 

Pyg wasn't sure about this place, but he needed some rest. The cold was no bother; being from the north as he was, he was used to tucking in for the evening in the clear, eventually blanketed under the falling snow. The presence of family made that situation even cozier. Alas, tonight, he was alone.

But it did truly smell quite strongly of foxes. His nose wrinkled as he padded down a well-worn path, wondering if any of the little buggers were apt to jump in front of him without a moment's notice. Just a small place, he thought, in which to tuck himself in. He'd been traveling for quite a while, now, with little sleep. Sleep was more than deserved.

"And miles to go before I sleep." Apropos. If Pygmalion was a man of literature and not, say, a wolf, he might have said the sentiment aloud. As it was, he merely trudged on, dark eyes darting in weary search.