Cricket Creek Bog fragile stuff, all show

Bronco's ears tilted forward at the question and, feeling as though he'd been caught in a bit of a corner, given his experience, he chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. Perhaps it was more the way Ridgeback had described the life of a lone wolf that he'd liked, than the idea of living on his own. He found himself blushing, his cheeks growing hot beneath his fur, when Ridgeback described their current season as being 'fruitful,' and the impressionable lad's memory immediately, inappropriately, connected a few dots and reminded him of the talk his mother had given him. It had been months ago- but he still felt slightly traumatized about the topic of reproduction. Of course, Ridgeback potentially only meant 'fruitful' to mean the blooming of flowers, and the return of the herds- but Bronco's mind was too quick to make a different assumption. 

"I...Wouldn't know," He admitted somewhat softly. He didn't like being reminded of how young and inexperienced he was. He had lived with a pack his entire life- save for the little trip he'd taken with his mother when he'd been very young. "I've lived in a pack my entire life." He stated, though he assumed that that much would be obvious. He looked about as out of place as a lone wolf as a fat house cat might look if it managed to sneak outside. "Have you always been on your own?" He asked, hoping th be regaled with a story of how this dashing fellow had spent his life as wild as the wind that rattled the cattails nearby.