Emberwood Vilipending Loneliness

The moon's half light lit the tops of the canopy with a dull glimmer. The hour was late. Deer and many of their kin were sound asleep among well chosen encampments of bramble and tall grasses. Tracking such animals at night in thick forest was damn near impossible, as too many others were active and disturbed the pathways the animals had taken in the dusk. Taikon sneered at a set of hoof prints that had recently been smeared with raccoon paws. He could hear a family of either coons or some other small beast chittering among themselves, apparently entertained by how obvious a white wolf appeared in the darkness.
The wolf had meant to find cover much earlier than this. He had trekked far over the past two days, as usual for his loner lifestyle. The rain had blasted him while following a creek, but the closest forested area was many miles away. Though he was thankful to have been graced with balmy weather and only rare winds, his bulky coat was only just beginning to dry under the cover of trees.
Letting out a long, tired sigh, he sat in the moist dirt, abandoning the search for his quarry as he covered the tracks with a wet bum.
Taikon had always known that moving from place to place as he did was hardly good for his health. The best way to find food reliably was to truly know your environment. To feel the earth beneath your paws and expect the vibration of only particular animals in an area was powerful. More importantly, to know regional weather patterns and where the best hunting grounds were was a serious win. Taikon hadn't stayed in the same place for many years. Though he enjoyed the constant stimulation of the novel, he often had moments like this; they were moments that made him remember how difficult this choice of life was.
Come on now, don't be stupid, he thought, vilipending his longstanding loneliness. This is how it has to be. A pack is meant for beasts without minds. It is a prison where only the powerful prevail.
The predator stretched his body before raising himself up again, pushing forth at a reasonable trot, inhaling the cool air at each stride to test for potential prey. Deer had always been the wrong choice for this hunt; that was obvious.

---

The hours passed, and at last, Taikon launched from a carefully selected patch of weeds. A loud set of squeals was heard for nearly twenty, agonizing seconds as the wolf mashed his teeth into the neck of a very large rodent. The gnawing that had been heard moments before subsided, and all that remained was the burbling water of the creekside, many metres away.
The beaver was a solid prize for his hard and patient work. He did not hesitate in setting into his kill, enjoying the lovely snaps and cracks of sinew and bone. Occasionally, he would let out small growls, as though being forced to share with packmates. Each time he did this, he noticed it, and hated himself for it.
How odd it would be indeed to have another join him at this hour.