Big Salmon Lake it's time we tried to find the sunrise

The arrival of the jays seemed to steal both of their focuses. He peered at them momentarily, flicked an ear, then looked again to Tehama. Her interest seemed to still be caught up in the flock, perched high up in the trees. The thought of birds made him recall the goose he had scavenged from earlier, making him swipe his tongue over his chops in search of a lingering taste. Since the woman's attention was elsewhere, he thought to briefly give his pelt a good shake, causing a mucky feather or two to plummet to the ground. Her ghostly eyes returned to him as quickly as they had left.

The question she posed was straightforward. Tahoe found that the subject of pack life was a frequently mentioned topic discussed amongst fellow travelers. He could see the reason as to why—a wolf was a trivial predator without the support of many. Desire for pack life was a word too strong for him. Sure, he would appreciate a pack greatly, but he never intentionally sought one. It seemed like almost an implied necessity to him rather than something he would devote his existence to finding. This was just his nature, which strictly went against relying on others. He had a vagabond's heart, yet the knowledge that thriving was unachievable in these woods alone. Once again, Tehama's pallid gaze veered toward the beyond. 

It sounds much simpler when you put it that way. He responded, a subtle gravity to his words. Not all folks are as easygoin' as you, Tehama.