Blacktail Deer Plateau I'm Hemingway with a shot of whiskey

"lead us to our promised land, dante," the druid whispered, overcome by emotion. he would be leader, but the last act he wished the silver man to give to his pack was the drawing them away from this wretched, wonderful wood. he felt that this was fitting -- in his mind, it was a natural end to dante's reign.

"i would like you to remain as our beta. your leadership skills have supported us through many things, and i for one would not like to lose them." his mind was racing, working -- luke must be told, for the move to the south would bring them even further from his lover's pack, which caused a pang to wreath his heartstrings.

he felt that the man must be weary of leading, and with many years yet left to him, perhaps the man would finally seek out love and begin a family. lasher hoped that, if so, dante would remain with their pack, but he understood if the silver man hoped to make a new niche for himself elsewhere.