he had returned home to find blodreina dead, praimfaya gone, ingram to follow. the silence in diaspora was deafening, but moreso, the trembling had worsened. and now the very mountains began to shatter, cascading in cold expanses of dust and shale from their perches.
one such dawn, the general called firmly to his wolves. we must depart! he cried into the cold air, as he strode through falling snow, roaming about to find their faces, to locate the children. the hollow scouted by diasporans would do for now; even with dire rockfalls, the center of it could remain safe until he found a place across the stone faces.
now! he commanded, and the crash of crumbling monoliths confirmed for him his words. 
longing for diaspora, angered that they must leave behind stigmata's grave, mahler nevertheless set out with those who followed, and made for the valley toward the sunspire's end.
slow going, dangerous — he suffered a contusion as rocks showered down suddenly upon the caravan, but merely noted the tearing upon his shoulder and pressed on, on, onward into the wide mouth of the hollow and its untouched sheltering trees beyond.
the earth continued to growl and heave.