Herla lowered his antlers. It was late in the season, yes, but this set was going to have one last good go of it. Now was the time - Here they were, his allies, his friends, his *army* - the ambush was completed. They were in the heart of the enemy's territory, and there was absolutely nothing to stop them. He had his group pin a large set of guards to a steep, somewhat rugged rockfall, and they could not escape. Korin was off to catch her quarry, and this was the time. They were about to win. Herla would be free, knowing that leaving his loyalties behind, what he'd lived for since Trar took over - he'd be sure now he'd done the right thing, that without him, there would be no freedom for the Herds. He'd be a hero in a way. He'd maybe even take the Pineland Herd under his wing, to teach them to live again, and lead them as a true king would.
Herla would be able to see his precious Rora once more. His beautiful doe. And maybe even his child....
Suddenly, a buck proke from the guard, charging directly at Herla, with not a concern for any other buck about.
Only Herla.
Suddenly, the large, ten-point buck realized what was happening and who this young six-pointer was.
This was his son.
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Hypothetical situation. May even make it into the story. It really isn't toward the end, honestly, and ultimately, I can't say much.
May end up writing today, I dlno.