Golden Glade in a house that's not a home

in his own world of travels, being a loner was only an avoidance tactic. pike himself had spent many months within a pack just to keep nature's cruelty at bay, and he imagined his stomach would be caving in had he not resided at the last pack for as long as he did. it was amber that he stuck around for past winter, and amber that he'd left to travel alone once more. this time, maybe with less self-loathing -- for pike's content-ness with being a loner never had anything to do with his love for being alone with his own thoughts.

if he had been more of a people-person(wolf-wolf?), perhaps he would have pried at the mention of being a lost-soul. instead, pike merely wondered if that was how he could describe himself. if angst could befall a grown man as hard as it did him, perhaps his soul was lost. that's too bad, pike replied, in a manner that maybe could have been construed as encouraging or apologetic. 

a chuff of a laugh rippled from his chest, just at the notion that he could be so interesting. i can't imagine i'm a sight for sore eyes, he said back, a rare gleam sparkling from his gaze -- amusement was so fitting on the son of terance. i think i'm used to the quiet, it lets you hear everything else. then a pause, as the summer cicadas sang their melodies in the distance. 

what's stopping ya' from finding somewhere new? he asked, ever the conversationalist and ever the hypocrite, if you're miserable, i mean.