Sun Mote Copse Landlocked.

He was alone for about thirty minutes, maybe less. Something came striding through the night, efficiently avoiding many of the deeper pockets of sludge but not the leaf litter. The young man could follow their progress easily enough by listening carefully. He was ready to rise up from his crunchy pile when they stopped - their voice calling out oddly close to him, and he knew he had misjudged the distance between them.

Alizarin got to his feet. It would have been quite a sight, had nightfall not obscured him so thoroughly. Bits of red, gold, and yellow fragmented throughout his coat. Twigs netted in the mud that caked his belly. Burrs and brambles clung to his legs. He took a step towards the voice and then felt the need to shake off, letting pieces fly.

When that was out of his system he regarded the stranger: they were a little easier to see simply for th pale markings, as they turned grey in the liminal starlight, but otherwise they were a stark black configuration. I was just hittin' the hay. Didn't want to trespass. I didn't - did I?

He was tired and it showed in the surly tone of his voice, the clip of his cadence, not that Towhee would notice. He watched her for signs of acquiescence with an impatient aura radiating from his every inch.