Cricket Creek Bog fragile stuff, all show

it is, ridgeback murmurs in muted agreement. oft times he found them annoying — especially when he was trying to fall asleep — but in the here and now, after a winter that felt dreadfully long — even though he weathered it from a far away place — it was a pleasant sound. a promise that winter has ended and the fruitful seasons were upon them. fiery orange gaze flickers back to bronco as the younger male sits down; attentive. a low chuckle rumbles in ridgeback's throat as bronco claims that his misfit life sounds 'kind of amazing'. does it? ridgeback asks with a grin and a quirk of his brow. outwardly, sure. answering to no one was great. there was also a pang of loneliness that no matter how many temporary companions ridgeback took he could not entirely shake. it has its moments, ridgeback admits. but it gets lonely and hard even with the fruitful seasons upon us. in the end, ridgeback knows, wolves were meant to be pack creatures. the realities of it don't make for a very enthralling story but something in ridgeback tells him to be honest without really knowing why.