Sleepy Fox Hollow you did not break me

her warmth replaced itself with a sweeping ferocity — she did not approve. he had suspected that the lithe she-wolf would not, and pored a long moment over her firm words.
"stigmata left us vith several children and few mouths to hunt for them," mahler murmured, glancing before them. "i intend to be more strategic about how to grow diaspora." his kill-brother had presumably scattered seeds from place to place, but would they be named as his? he doubted such.
"she is not to my liking, not in that vay. this is not my vay, ketzia," the gargoyle rumbled in admission, somewhat torn by his future dreams and the pressure of reality.
children in swiftcurrent, in diaspora, in moonspear; he would think of other places, but in truth the concept
of it sickened him. he did not feel that he could experience as he had with andraste in each liaison; his body would be a tool, his seed a way of alliance only, triumph for diaspora even if it squandered mahler's opinion of himself. 
"but i see no other. my heart — it is fickle, and i vould not forgive myself if i promised love to one and forced myself to forget another."