mahler carefully crossed his paws at the ankle, taking pains not to brush praimfaya or the little ones. "skaigona and worripa," he repeated. "fine names from a strong mother. they vill live to them, i believe." a bit of encouragement before he began the retelling of all laurel had told him, of this merrick's matricide. of ursus' existence to the south. too near, the woman had said, and mahler repeated this as well. of this man;s attacks upon a pack called easthollow, and the other murders which laurel had claimed he committed.
he said all of this with a preciseness that did not indicate his feelings toward action on one front or another. he had not yet gone to ursus, and would not without a companion, but he felt — he hoped — that praimfaya would assume his proactiveness upon assessing the threat.
it interested him that praimfaya had once sought an alliance with these wolves. and the saints — yes, he remembered them: that had been the first and only bittering between he and the young woman. forgotten now, long forgotten, long forgiven. only now remained the twin threats of ursus and the saints, if the latter still existed.