Warren Booker pulls his tattered grey hood over his messy, light brown hair, ducking his head to get out of the rain as best he can. He huffs and wipes rainwater from his eyes. This is a new city for him, and it's harder than usual to find food with the constant showers. Still, at least he has shelter waiting for him. As long as he can keep whoever owns the abandoned, crumbling barn from finding him, he'll have a safe place to stay for weeks to come. He pulls his hood down slightly and tries to sniff through the rain, his ears flicking back and forth. At least humans are less likely to be out. That's one good thing that's happened to him today. He heads on his way through the quiet park, skirting a stone fountain before heading towards a line of distant buildings.