Greatwater Lake each morning I get up, I die a little

Shale shared what the death of his mate had done to him, but on this subject, Murdock would never speak. There'd been blood, and another woman, and more children now long laid down in their graves. And after her, he'd not lived as a hermit, but had returned home to his father's land, forever chasing as the heels of his sister, cousins, nieces - anyone who would give him the time of day. Blood, at least, was loyal and true, and at this point in the male's life, had long been a crutch and a fascination for the aging male.

"I feel like an old man," the male sighed, picking himself back up and beginning to trot away. He gestured for Shale to follow. "There's nothin' to do but keep going, little brother. It gets better with time."