The tare of one particular log den had become so heavy that the bottom was beginning to break into pieces to where there wasn’t even a bottom anymore and the ground had become its floor. That was the only time he had ever had to find somewhere to hide away for the night but he never did fret—a soldier like him stayed calm in all situations and even when there was that ounce of fear, he just did the best he could and handled it with his confidence. That might have been why he simply didn’t do well with other wolves, Inkheart didn’t adjust to those who couldn’t easily read his emotions because he couldn’t readily tell them what he was feeling. Nor did he ever explain what he was thinking.
Nonetheless, the Sacred Grove in which he patiently stood hidden in to find the perfect deer was enough to satisfy his entire day’s routine. There were times when one might have committed a suicide because of how dull and boring his life was, but being a lone wolf certainly gave him his advantages—he could do wild and crazy stunts without anyone bothering to tell him that he could hurt himself or even kill himself. More importantly, he didn’t have anybody to tell him that he was living his entire life the wrong way.
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