Swiftcurrent Creek in ruhig fließender bewegung

. she continued to speak of laws, and mahler's ire grew more within him. the woman acted as if this method of governing was universal, when in fact it was not. had it been, he would have known of it, and not shamed himself with his own anger. as it were, he was rapidly beginning to find her arrogant despite his efforts at maintaining some semblance of objectivity.
she demanded to know if he thought her a monster; the gargoyle gazed upon her with an empty expression, his features settling into a cold impassivity that leached the earlier anger from his countenance.
"my children are dead, frau. i vant no more. yet children are a blessing. they are the pack." what she had said regarding wylla was something mahler had immediately shelved along the back of his mind, processing suspended until he was able to deal with the heated conversation at hand. "are you saying your children deserve more than the others in swiftcurrent?"  the lilac eyes hardened. "and if so, vhy?" they were all of equal importance to the gargoyle; each one of them would grow into a wolf that would swell their numbers and claim. 
and herein was the missing part of mahler; some flaw soon noticeable by those around him, and as the moments passed, the musiker felt the familar sense of unterschied creep across his charcoal withers. momentarily he was shaken that he had pushed durnehviir so far; momentarily he felt a quailing within him at the ire he sensed kindling hot within her. but in the next he was cold again, mind trying valiantly to keep from consideration of the last time he had seen his own children alive.