Swiftcurrent Creek in ruhig fließender bewegung

his revelation had surprised her, mahler read in the lines of his leader's lithe body. but her tone remained firm; she was fervent, vehement in her defense of her decisions. the musiker did not understand and would not; at length he lowered his eyes and stood beneath the twin flames of her gaze in silence. wearied further by his progression into a conversation he did not wish to have, examining swiftly the elements that had led him forth, the gargoyle nevertheless regarded durnehviir with a remote expression when at last he lifted his broad muzzle again.
"i am angry, frau. and i do not mean to be. i do not understand your vays. but i vill not question them again." it was his approximation of an apology; as he had not changed his feelings about chusi and her babes, mahler did not know if he could truthfully say he was sorrowful for having confronted her. 
but as he had known through all this time, durnehviir and her choices were not at the root of his frustration. he would defend a babe from any wolf's teeth, mahler knew, but she had not slain the omega's children. and he saw no reason why she would. he had been wrong, and it was as bitter dust clinging to his tongue.
"i vas harsh to vylla when last we spoke. i loved her child." a disjointed pair of sentences; the nuance of them was remorse and a father's misplaced affection for the duckling that had never been in hope of belonging to him. it was a feeling that should have been completely excised from mahler following the death of his own children. but it had not, and now his anger had grown and led him down a perilous trail ending with dragonfire. 
some small part of mahler begged that durnehviir might dismiss him; another sensed she would punish him. and yet another wished to remain cold, impartial, to deliver his report of the territory he had discovered on his travels. but the exhaustion was growing, and the words weighed heavy at his tongue.