Even in the dark of mid-winter nights hunger draws the badger from his sleep. All day rain has fallen so hard that the roads have turned to rivers. Now in the darknight a river of stars flows across the sky, a star-bow.
Only the fleet of foot are out tonight, the rat and the fox. Fox prowls with the wind to his nose. All scents come to him and he reads the landscape, the story of the night, messages carried in the stream of air.
Cold, mid-winter, washed by the rain. Night.