The storm continues to rage, though the ditch and its branches protect from all but the chill and some of the rain. And it isnt the only danger. Having conquered the capital, footsteps from both man and beast can be heard, searching the immediate area for stragglers and survivors - would-be refugees who could get the message out and grow a resistance to the new regime. 

After an hour, however, the storm took its toll even on soldiers full of adrenaline and bloodlust. Drenched and cold, they slowly return to the city limits to celebrate their victory in comfort. The storm has been merciful in one regard tonight: its winds have provided shelter, its thundering provided a muffle affect, and its chaos has shielded at least two survivors. 

It too passes, going on its own way and eventually dissipating. Silence soon shrouds the night, broken by drops of water from the treetops...and a very shallow, weak breathing. 

A man was still unconcious under the brush, now discoverable by the little fox girl. And though details would still be difficult to see for the rest of the night, his state of health had clearly declined from that of a normal man. His breathing was slow and shallow, perhaps so quiet as to be inaudible to a regular human, and his skin was cold and clammy from the rain. As it was, his chances of survival would be slim.