It was raining lightly outside, but Mohegan was storming on the inside. There was something in his heart, and it wasn’t a bird. Not anymore. Something bigger and shuffling, lumbering, waking from the slumber of the winter. A bear coming out of predator’s rest. Mohegan is displeased with basically everything, and nothing can truly describe how cranky he is. A scowl colors his face as he moves to the Woodlands. It’s been days since he’s even tried to eat something, after all. Best to hunt down a meal.

The decision is split-- go hunt in the Valley where he can probably nab a rabbit quickly, but get soaked in the process; go hunt in the Woodlands, take a bit longer to catch something but stay reasonably dry. Already smelling like wet dog, Mohegan opts for the Woodlands. Heading north, staying under the cover of trees that were just beginning to grow their leaves back. This was fine. His mood was low, as seemed more and more common these days. It didn’t matter. Hell, did anything matter, right now?

Nah. Crossing into the Woodlands, his nose presses to the ground. Rabbits… they had to be some out here. Fairly easily, Mohegan picks up a fresh scent trail. With his usual light, fairly quick gait, he takes off. Nothing to stop him now, right?