Herbalists' Cache das lied von der erde

he nodded grimly at nanny apple's words. in truth, mahler was tired by the admissions he had made, wearied by questioning. but she had been nothing aside from kind to him, and the brute's awareness of social mores dictated that this be recognized by allowing their conversation to come to its natural end. 
muzzle lowering, the man snipped herbal heads from their stems, lifting to refocus on the woman. "i have not. it was strange. violent. swift. they were healthy one day. they stumbled the next. dead the third."
so hot their foreheads had been.