Silence of Solitude

Fugue had never found himself in a place nearly as satisfying as he felt in this swamp. There were so many scents to become acquainted with, and it was as if no packwolves chose the swamp as their ideal spot to congregate. He loved it!
Just as the sun was setting, the young male had already tracked down three pieces of prey and had them piled neatly beside his makeshift nest. The smell was mouth watering, and his stomach growled hungrily for its past week of famine. Fortunately enough for Fugue, the swamp was rich with his choice of food and drink.
The nights hunt was successful, he thought as he tore into a catfish. A smile grew wide across his maw as he chewed and imagined the time it had taken to kill this meal. It was as if the fish wanted to be eaten, swimming right into his jaws for the kill as he snapped its neck with a gorgeous crunch.
Fugue nodded his ginger head slowly, appreciating the comfortable swim of his thoughts from one end of the labyrinth to the next. It would be a warm night in his mind. A pleasant experience for all those that normally feuded in Fugue's elaborate cranium.