Nova Peak blutbefleckt

Mahler began to speak of an ally on the cliffs. Wylla listened, but had nothing to say. She was thankful someone had lent him their aid, but ultimately, she didn't care about anyone else. If the boy survived, it was likely neither of them would come across him again. She filed the information away on the off chance she ever did meet a boy who'd been injured on the cliffs, but she didn't think it would happen. The rambling of a badly injured wolf airing his conscience, nothing more.

The going was slow and laborious. Wylla wanted nothing more than to spirit Mahler away to the higher slopes where he would be protected on all sides by their claim, but he couldn't make the journey in his state. She had to settle for something here in the forested foothills, closer to the border than she would've liked. But by her admission and then by his acceptance—something which made butterflies erupt inexplicably in her stomach—he would have her for a guard. He would be safe enough.

She led him, step by pained step, to the first cavern near the mountain's base that she could find. It wasn't as roomy as she'd like, but there was space enough for both of them if they squeezed in close. Most of the time it would be just Mahler, anyway, while she kept watch outdoors or patrolled the area. Will this work? she asked, ducking her head inside for a brief look. Despite the rain, the interior beyond the threshold looked dry and there was enough of a gentle slope to the land that flooding wouldn't be an issue. She hoped, anyway.