rain lashed the high spires of sagtannet, sending torrents into the valley below. mahler watched windholme closely, for the river had begun to swell through the day, and now lapped dangerously onto the bank. even as he gazed toward the frothed rapids, a terrible cracking sound ricocheted through the air.
a pine, its seed planted too close to the crumbling embankment further downstream, had slid halfway into the water, snapping thick roots as eventually it plunged into the gnashing maw of the feral river. snapped to and fro, the needled branches split from their mother bole and rushed along the foaming surface.
@Phaedra would be terrified, but the gargoyle could not stop the summertime glut of rain. thoughts floated to @Star and her brood, upon whom he checked often. @Nyx would be with little @Ciri and @Elke now, and he wondered at the location of the lioness' den. and @Wylla — would she be worried for the new breadth of the river, or would she maintain her crisp sense of pragmatism?
mahler followed, for now refusing to worry, but he would not depart windholme until the debris had been washed farther down and he saw the overflow empty elsewhere.