when mahler was not with wylla or phaedra, putting a patrol around rivenwood with druid or astraeus, he sought after laurel with the helpless devotion of a doktor who has had several doors slammed into his face. but she was far more than a patient. 
what she was exactly mahler denied to determine for himself.
but this summertime she would be a mother, and the gargoyle was fixated upon making himself useful with nearness. laurel would sequester herself away, and he would be forced to search for her through all of rivenwood. it reminded him of the stone, shale-scattered shelves where agana had given birth to astraeus.
laurel had hidden herself for long weeks from mahler, since she had returned to the bypass.
mahler followed tealwater creek from his pharmacy, a mouthful of verdant leaves and brown bolus tucked into his cheeks. he meant to seek for laurel again, offer once more the care she had refused through her pregnancy.
mahler did not expect to find laurel in the emerald grass, with dawnleaf against her backdrop. he did not expect the scent of blood and of birth and of milk, here in the open and not within a den. 
the midwife was galvanized at once. he set down his burden and drew closer at once. 
two children lay against her side. laurel first was given the bulk of his ministrations. he searched for the fever that sometimes follows upon the heels of labour, for the greenish rot of infection in the birth water. mahler did not dare give more than a surreptitious glance toward the blood, noting only that there was not a worrisome abundance.
"vell done, laurel," he said softly, wonderingly. "i vill help you take them to your den."
guardianship was mahler's lot. he would not be turned away, not in this.
the lavender eyes were soft with an affectionate support when they met her own.