He sat in the hide and watched the rain fall. He watched the big, broad leaved trees shudder with every raindrop, and he watched great evergreens weather the storm without acknowledgement. He watched birds high overhead, saw them wheel and skitter through the mist that covered the valley. Water trickled over the lip of the hide, and occasionally the wind would blow it inwards. When he grew too cold, he’d reach for the hip flask inside his coat. The whisky was sweet and mild, and warmed him from the inside out.