Meadowlark Prairie Break me up and steal what's left inside

Goodnight tried to keep moving — slow and steady.

It was the only thing these days that ever had a chance of distracting him from being so damn hungry, and it worked about as often as it didn't; though at the end of each day he was always dead tired. An unfortunate side-effect, as he considered sleeping — or rather, the creeping and incessant need for it — to be the absolute worst part about being a bachelor male. So far his ritualistic paranoia had been for nought, and yet he would not be rid of it in this state.

Not even in a place as unobscured as the long prairie; dressed in uniform winterwhite until next year.

Goodnight had reached a point in the day where he wanted to rest, but was almost immediately thwarted by a huntress camouflaged in a coat as wan as fresh snow, with a stride that was not to be crossed. The ranger kept his fair distance, pausing only to watch her pass, and wonder what kind of prey she intended to find with such vehement, single-minded snuffling.