Sun Mote Copse choke all my love away

Hunting thread, or can be anything.

The land grew wet and cold, and fast, so he deviated away from the bulk of it. Beyond midnight, passing through the early morning (the October sky retaining a grim greyness), it began to rain, but Titmouse wasn't aware of the tiny pitter-patter of the drops as he crossed through the forest. The trees murmured a whispered chorus as the rain picked up, and before he was thoroughly drenched by the oncoming mess of precipitation, Tit felt a calm descend upon him. The scents in the air were stronger now - heavier almost, carried by the water and intensified; he thought he could smell fox among the trees, then squirrel, but there was no movement. He would have to keep prowling if he hoped to catch anything edible for himself. If all else failed, scavenging would work just as well.