Heron Lake Plateau only need the light when it's burnin' low

Ah, woe is him - woe upon woe upon woe! For so long he has lived with veiled sight, peering through rose-tinted eyes and held close to his Madir's breast, and now he has nothing! Nothing! Not a single blade of grass to call his own - alone, Ysengrin wanders without friend nor foe except the world itself, taking it as duty to know the land that has fostered him.

Ysen sighs sometimes - how he wishes Madir were here with him now but no, she must be safely hidden away, lest unkind jaws should find her, waiting for him to come home. And he does not even know where his Madir is, so he trots to take his mind away from her, to lose himself in the tip-tap-tip-tap that is his rhythm. He ignores the burning of his lungs and the aching of his brow, only knows that he must run or she will find his way into his thoughts again.