Sex: MalePack life was…weird.
Well, perhaps that wasn't the correct word for it, but the boy had been traveling with only his father for several months. Young (and impressionable) as he was, Gilligan quickly adapted to this sort of lifestyle, comfortable with constant movement and abandonment of a night's den. Hunts were short, and kills were small. The yearling learned quickly not to be a greedy wolf, satisfied once his belly was full. He could travel when his belly growled and when his paws ached. All of this he knew, and understood – if it wasn't something he enjoyed, it was something he understood, and was not something he truly wanted to change.
This was the Aquila pack. This wasn't his father's pack.
The last time he was in a pack, it was before his father, it was the other—
Unable to think back that far, the youth discarded the thought and pushed further away from the plateau. It was nice, and all, but Gil hadn't made any friends – staying still so long was making his skin start to crawl. His father had plenty to do, and to say, but the ginger wolf had no interest in the politics. He kept his tongue still and journeyed out, hoping to find someone closer to his age, someone more like him. With a hefty sigh, the he halted in the wide swatch of fireweed and glanced around.
"Why am I even here?"
Why did this take so long I am so sorry.