It was true that Crete had been distant from many for a while, thoughtful about his strange reaction to the fawn colored Thistle, so abrupt and strong even though they knew nothing about one another, especially because Crete was not a believer in ‘love at first sight’. In fact, he scoffed at the notion finding it inherently ridiculous. There remained many things that Crete was skeptical of. He had managed to check the caches and patrol, regardless of his seclusion from most of the world. In a way, Crete was happy like this. In one fell swoop, he avoided any more unnecessary trouble that would be sure to find him, and Hawkeye, of whom he had gotten no where with. Despite Peregrine’s optimism the woman had not sought him out, but to be fair, neither did Crete seek her. They would never get along, Crete would never apologize, and there were frightening moments when he fluctuated on how he felt about her and Peregrine’s kids, flitting between hating them and feeling guilt for being like that. To this, seclusion was better. He had been heading back to his den when Peregrine’s voice cut through the morning air for him. For a second, Crete hesitated on the edge, before he dutifully made his way to where Peregrine was, moving close to his brother to lick him under the chin in an affectionate notion, before he questioned his alpha with his eyes.