Herbalists' Cache das lied von der erde

the wink apple directed toward him made mahler regain what discomfort he had lost. it was not repulsion; he simply was unused to creatures of any sort expressing even humorous interest. only alarian had beheld mahler beyond that sort of discomfort, and it was clear the little cherub still wished for more from the stoic man. more of something mahler had no interest in giving.
it was ironic, then, his intrigue with midwifery, when he had no love for what it took to bring forth children. the affair in the past for him had been a biological urge, something to be rushed, a brief pleasure in his loins but not enough to seek it out. and here was apple, wife to four, mother of ... 
he realized he had not asked. four litters, one for each mateship. and an eater of inedible things. "dandelions," he grunted with a wry smile. a blink, and mahler cleared his throat. "if i may, frau, how many children do you have?" she had been quite frank with him; he was clearly taken by her open nature, and hoped she would not grow reticent now.