Fox's Glade in split infinity

dated to around the 20th^^ @Evien

Just north of his new home, bears' smell gave way to foxes' smell, a rank, acrid sort of smell that stuck a probing thumb in his drowsiness.
He hadn't been able to sleep for days. Not a single hour. He sits on the slope of a hill, knees to his chest. His eyes are sullen and bloodshot, and beneath them are darker circles, and beneath them is a mouth set in a thoughtful, mute pucker.
Taylor considers that it might be him not wanting to fall asleep, and then he considers that he doesn't want to open that particular can of worms. Not here, not now, staring into the sun with the smell of fox scat in his nose and therefore in his mouth. Thoughts, brief phrases, memories, they snatch at his ears. He flattens them and ducks down, his chin in between his hands.
What he needs is a distraction.