Honeyed Pasture ah, there's still time

Antares let his days slip away on the seaside, living a simple life: scavenging, hunting, and ranging nearby for no cause except his own selfish whim. He could keep his furs slaked in seawater if he wanted, and there were all sorts of other beach smells to wear otherwise. He had even tried to rest, too, but his dreams only went on to remind him of what he was running from. So, he struck a wary balance in the nightmare of the reality, and chased a busied exhaustion each day so he wouldn't have any other choice. To some measure of the definition, on the whole, it seemed to do him some good; a bit of luster had finally started to return to him, faint still, but perhaps something.

It was the first time in a good while, but he opted to push his routes more inland today, craving a warm meal while he ranged late into the day. He pointedly avoided the charred forest to the west of the bay, not wanting to busy his nose in such a scenery anyway, so the grassy pasture crisscrossed in scents lured him in easily.

Before the sun set, he polished off a fat rabbit and decided to keep roving on intently; the night was young yet, after all, and no true duty awaited him anywhere. He chanced a fleeting glimpse up to the ring of short mountains, closer now than they had been in some time, and tried not to let this focus wander. There was more ground he could cover still, and oncoming nightfall suited his ventures into the relative open. He continued the hunt for something extra to take back for later, too.

for @Keyni