Flycatcher Downs but retain less

it was nice to get out, stretch his legs. the creek's geography was not much to his liking—rocky and restrictive, cut down the middle by a waterway that threatened to tug unsuspecting travelers under. if he were leading the pack, he would relocate somewhere nicer. . .somewhere like the maplewood.

the maplewood. . . was it still unoccupied? aditya wanted to know, and yet he knew as soon as he set foot in the place, the ghosts of his past would come screaming back. and speaking of ghosts from his past—

the figure ahead, for some reason or another, reminded him of alarian. his stomach churned; his dalliance with the slight man was not one of his finer moments. but as he got closer, the differences made themselves known. a darker pelt, littered with far fewer scars. not alarian. thank god.

arrey, he called out, giving a chuff in greeting. his tail wagged behind him as he trotted closer, chin lifted as he continued to size up the stranger. quite androgynous, this one, much like alarian. . .

but different. different!

do you live around here? aditya asked, at a loss for what else to say, so thrown off as he was by the wolf's resemblance to an old flame(?).