Sawtooth Spire when i've always been distant, and i've always told lies for love

In Stag there was a dearth of world experiences. He knew this, and he was bitter for his advanced age (in his eyes) and disadvantaged wisdom.. But he could not stomach the idea of leaving, and now more than ever it seemed he was needed here.

So he would stay, and any soul searching would have to wait.

He looked down at the valley, cowled in a silvery mist with just the tips of the distant firs sticking through its depths. A realm unknowable and undiscovered; dangerous and remote. It did not call to him, not the way duty did. He was silent, mulling over Mahler's words and wondering if he was making the right choice, though in his heart he knew the answer.