Rosie:
We're all of us prospectors up here, eh, Tyler? Scratchin' for that... that one crack in the ground. Never have to scratch again. I'll let you in on a little secret, Tyler: the gold's not in the ground. The gold's not anywhere up here. The real gold is south of 60 - sittin' in livin' rooms, stuck facin' the boob tube, bored to death. Bored to death, Tyler.
Rosie:
Take the stick... Aaaaaaah!
Tyler:
What's wrong?
Rosie:
Boredom, Tyler. Boredom - that's what's wrong. And how do you beat boredom, Tyler?... Adventure. Adventure, Tyler.
Tyler:
Where are you going, Rosie? Rosie, what are you doing? I can't fly this thing! What do I do?
Drunk:
[
warning Tyler about wolves] They'll come after you, son. Just for the ugly fun of tearing you apart.
Mike:
To me a wolf means money. It's a way of making a living. One wolf pelt is about $350 dollars. And I've got to feed my family; my children. Buy a snowmobile; food, rifle, bullets whatever.
Tyler:
You wouldn't ah... you wouldn't kill these wolves?
Mike:
These ones... no. No I don't think so. Besides you would get mad if I killed one of them... and your gun is bigger than mine.
Tyler:
Yeah.
Mike:
I'd like to though.
Tyler:
In the end there were no simple answers. No heroes or villians; only silence.
[
final line]
Tyler:
[
narrating] I believe the wolves went off to a wild and distant place somewhere, although I don't really know... because I turned away, and didn't watch them go.
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