Blacktail Deer Plateau and my tongue stiffens into silence,

He had made it back to the plateau somehow. He didn't remember how (that seemed to be a reaccuring theme now). It didn't matter. He didn't want to be here. 

Cupid should've been a frozen corpse by the river. Wolves from far and wide, faces he didn't know and would never know, would stumble across his body. They'd say "I wonder what happened to that poor thing." They would leave with no answer and forget about him the next day. Years would pass and Cupid would be forgotten. it would've been great.

He walked through the plateau alone, straight to a nearby river. He stared down at the mess that was his reflection. Slowly, he reached out and touched the water's surface with his nose. Was drowning a more reliable way to die? He was tempted to find out.