Blacktail Deer Plateau reporting the patterns row by line

It was quite a sad tale and honestly if he had been asked, Mordecai couldn't have said where it came from. His experiences with sadness came once in a blue moon. Most of the time, he didn't let himself be bogged down by experiences of the past that were negative; he got over them and moved on, very much like he had done with most things in his life. His eyes moved to trace the mountains in the distance, wondering if things could really be that lonely up there. Silvertip hadn't been that lonely, though the varied height there often made it difficult to find others. But the vistas had been worth taking in, much like they were on the plateau, and of course, from the higher ridges and climes of the Spine and its squat ring of mountains.

"Perhaps," he said, suddenly less verbose than he had been. "But it would be a matter of letting someone in, or having someone approach him. Who would want to approach someone who had stories tossed wildly about them for so long that they became a mythical legend?" Rarely seen and always heard about, Mordecai thought his so-called villain in his tale was quite the opposite. Not a hero, of course, but simply misunderstood and left to be that way. "And who's to say that over time that he wants the company himself? Perhaps his banishment now is just a self-imposed exile for atonement." His brought his gaze back to Osprey with a tilt of his head, wondering if it all made any sense.