His explorations continued, and with each passing day, he grew more and more lonely. At first, the loneliness was like background noise: annoyingly apparent when things were quiet but easily blocked out with a distraction. But now, it consumed his every waking moment. He may not have been right for the pack he was born into, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that he was not meant to be a lone wolf; it had been fun and freeing at first, but now it was just old, and he was tired of searching for something he wasn't even sure he knew how to find.
He wandered farther from the mountains than usual, desperate for some kind of change of pace, and found himself in a vast meadow. Summer had brought green, rolling fields of high grass, and wildflowers broke the monotony with their bright colors. East moved slowly through the grass, once again reminded of his very distinct lack of purpose; even the beautiful summer meadow couldn't pull him from his funk like it might have at the beginning of his journey.
Common · Trigedasleng
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