quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass

It was a day perfectly suited to his mood – the clouds hung heavy and dark overhead with the threat of rain prominent in them. Despite this the day was still warm, humid even – almost as if the heat of day had come and become trapped beneath the thickly draped sky. He woke early from the strangely too big den and came out into the gray scale late summer day well after the sun had already risen. For a while he moved about the den area, stretching his shoulder and working the stiffness from his joints until they no longer ached from being curled, motionless for hours within the den.

Having stretched he then turned and headed out – moving to the south, skirting the mountains before finding a narrower calm spot in the river that split the valley to use as a cross over point. He marked the place mentally, hoping to be able to relocate it so that he could use it again on his return run home. The day wore on and his muscles, which had grown accustomed to the restful way he had been living for the last few weeks in the red forest along side Hush. Her sudden absence had really shook up his life and given him a reality check.

With no reason to return home on that evening, or even the next, he went further south than he'd ever taken himself on this side of the mountain's high reaching ranges. With the day fading into a dull cloud covered dusk he soon found himself in a wide meadow. In a way it's seeming endlessness reminded him of the ocean, the way the whispering grass rolled with the blowing wind. He could feel the fingers of the breeze raking across his back, stirring the thick dark hair of his coat. He roamed aimlessly for a while.

Almost by accident he stumbled upon the first nest of them – the mice went scattering every which way – darting desperately away from his paws in wild zig-zagging routes that carried them all through the grass. Though caught unaware initially, he was not slow to react and he certainly wasn't above an easy meal, even if it was a small one. He went springing into action, catching and half crushing scrambling mice beneath his paws, pausing only long enough to snatch them up to eat them before darting on to the next. He used nose, ears, and eyes to track them and lightning fast reflexes to capture and consume them. It was almost more of a mad game than a true hunt.