Sunset Valley heart of the wilderness

@Indra / AW!

The light mist of morning rain was over, and that was a blessing - or a curse, perhaps, that whatever higher power existed wanted him to wander aimlessly through unknown land with a heavy hide that slowly began to stink like all wet fur did. What fur remained, at any rate, considering the patchwork of new scars that ran over him like a map of battle. They all faded with age, the newest at least two years old, but still they reworked the switch of his fur and the way his coat grew and re-grew with every summer shed and winter fluff. 

And in the mid-season of autumn, he looked almost comical, were it not for the mean cut of his face.

Twitching a still-wet shoulder, he lets himself roll to a shuddering stop in the open clearing, sunlight glaring overhead and lighting the rain-wet field with glitters of dew and fresh-filled puddles. There went his chance to pick up new scents. Quietly, he stalked his way through the plush dirt, casting the single eye he had up toward the clouds that converged in the distance, black and fat with more damn rain. Great.