23. He never did feel part of them.

They weren’t his family.
They told him he was adopted and that’s how he felt.
Different.
Not the same.
He lasted out until he was 12 years of age and then he took off. He had planned his escape as he called it for about two years. As a child conceived in the woods, it was to the woods that he returned to spend the rest of his life. He had built a base for himself near Canyon Falls.
That over the years had become his home.
He would delight in spending hours there doing whatever he wanted. It was odd that Luke never felt lonely. The woods and the wild animals and the running water were his comfort and his delight. He collected all sorts of stuff and stowed them away inside what gradually became his cabin. He hung fishing nets from the ceiling and walls and crammed in all sorts of things. For example, The Union Jack Flag, a Welcome sign, framed photographs, Christmas decorations, sword, skates, traps, food, traps, ammunition, matches and food. His scraped furs and dried fish were also hung up as high as possible. Out of reach of spoilt bears he always hoped. His simple furniture was beautifully crafted and put together using only wooden plugs. The Rochester Wood Stove he had bought from the store had served him so well over the years that he saw no reason to change it. Well-blackened pots and pans and his clothes were all purchased from the sale of his furs and fish. The rivers around his home were teeming with fish and he never went hungry nor thirsty from the freshest, cleanest water you could imagine from the Canyon River nearby. His dried fish and potted bake-apple, partridge berry and blueberry jams lasted him right throughout the year. And he baked his own bread from the flour he had bought at the store. Luke found the best places to cut his firewood and haul it out with his dog