Blacktail Deer Plateau you don't know me from the wind; you never will, you never did
a shadow is cast wherever he stands
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His wife had left some cheerless morning perhaps a moon or two ago; they had not lived upon the Plateau long.  He should've seen it coming.  Quail had been a sulking submissive type and he had forced intimidated her, caught her off guard.  His failures were self-created.  He was not surprised, but he was disappointed.

Life at the Plateau was comfortable.  Too comfortable for the likes of him, and predictable, too.  So without a second look towards the pack he was abandoning, he threw a howl to the air by way of departure.  So long.