Bramblepoint the graveyard, the turnaround, it changed in you somehow

It was a question he did not want to answer. Skwol preferred to be close to others, both physically and emotionally, but he had always been a private wolf and never readily opened up to others, especially not to strangers. He was selective about his confidants. But since coming to these wilds he had been compelled several times — loneliness, an innate need to belong and to be with other wolves was, no doubt, the driving force behind that subtle change in attitude. He yearned for closeness.

It was aquestion he could not answer, either. He could not tell Indra that his home had been the sort of place worthy of the most hopeful dreams but that he had brought ruin to that. That he left believing that doing so was best for his family. Even if he had been inclined to tell her, the explanation would have caught in his throat and lodged there like a stubborn bit of meat too big to swallow. He answered instead with, "no place is perfect," which was true but unspecific.

"It was beautiful but like so many before me I felt the need to set out on my own." Dispersion was common among wolves his age and wanderlust was particularly prevalent in his family's blood as their ancestors were nomads. It had always been his intent to leave... but not for the reason that he did. He had intented to steal his mate-to-be away, to claim a territory that neighbored his father's, and to raise a family there. But things change.

"Why are you here?"