Broken Antler Fen That's just is

The spring had come and gone, as had the summer. Draper had remained just south of Broken Antler Fen, although he still lacked what he truly desired: a family. Coyotes had passed through, but none of them stuck around. Why, he wondered, was his own species so wishy-washy? Was he wishy-washy, too? It stumped him, and he traveled north today, back into the fen to scout it out once more. He'd had no real reason to leave it, and where he'd gone had only been a little ways away.

He was following the trail of a rabbit now, feet picking over the underbrush. It was unlikely that he would actually catch anything, but persistence was key. Coyotes were known for their scavenging skills, although Draper had always done his part to dispel the negative connotations his type had. After the trail he went, bushy tail bobbing behind him.