Wapun Meadow running home, running home

And he let her go. There was no point in keeping her. She was not his to take. He could care less of the burdens that ate her soul alive, but once it affected her ability to protect he'd intervene. Her woes were for Dolce's ears, not his. This, he now understood.
Taking a final bite, he watched her stride into the distance of the valley. Hips swaying, eyes landing on the bruise hidden beneath her thick coat. Would she tell her own husband of the pain, he wondered. But again, it was not his place. Meddlesome as ever, he'd force himself to look away.
With no help from her, he hoisted the carcass upon his broad back. The expanse of the buck was just enough for him to lug it slowly back to camp. Blood dripping from his shoulders to the ground, it didn't stop his mind from wandering.