upon parting ways with wylla, the gargoyle had stood at the eastern border and called to @Constantine and @Durnehviir. at the end of it, mahler deliberately hung a lingering note for @Tiercel. he would return, but not until his tread had exhausted the full breadth of sorrow and anger that hung heavy within him.
for five days mahler had traveled, headed for the slopes falling shadow in the distance. the man's path was straightforward; he paused to rest alongside a lake, and hunted in a woodland farther along. the dawning of the fourth day brought him deer spoor, which he followed into the fifth until he came to a nestled paradise that had somehow escaped his watch.
the jagged teeth of fierce mountains that did not quite tower stood sentinel over the jeweled swathes of forest. summerlight had turned the meadows to emerald carpet and profusions of wildflowers, and fresh water flowed. there was no scent of a pack here, and mahler continued into the heart of it undisturbed, his lilac stare soft despite the weariness of his paws and his heart.
here there was music.