Noctisardor Bypass We're sunflowers in the rain

There was a new blanket of snow over Rivenwood when Wylla woke that morning. Even for a cynical middle-aged bitch like Wylla, who could not shake her perpetual grim outlook, there was something magical about being the first to walk over fresh snow. It brought her back to being a child. It helped that Rivenwood was not as bitterly cold as the mountains this time of year. The wind still cut through her thin fur, but the bite didn't go quite down to her bones.

Wylla pranced in the snow, making great long leaps to see how far she could bound between steps. She was quite agile, all things considered, but could never jump quite as high as her mother. Lusca could clear another wolf in a single bound. Wylla did not dare to try it herself. But she leapt over logs and danced around stumps, losing herself in the simple pleasure of it all.

Until she came to a stream, where she stopped to break the ice and drink deep of the frigid water. When she was finished, she straightened and peered into the forest ahead, licking her chops and thinking suddenly of spring and what it might mean for her now that @Mahler was being treated.

the blood had not come back.
the woman who called herself a healer had given him a treatment that mahler had never seen before. it turned his world to a brighter sheen; it made him unsteady upon his paws. but the coughing was kept at bay, and along with it, several of the paining aches that had plagued his flesh.
wylla's was not a thought he had entertained in some time. the gargoyle was prepared to die. he had no illusion that the sickness had been eradicated. the medicine had soothed his symptoms. and perhaps mahler was far too pragmatic.
he forgot it when he saw wylla across the river. he himself had been on a slower patrol of rivenwood. but mahler had seen her running through the trees. and now as she lifted her head he made himself visible.
from this distance he knew it was her but could not see wylla's expression. it was just as well — he did not want her to see the want and the anguish stamped upon his brow.

Wylla's gaze was far away. What might her future look like now, and did she even want to take a chance on it? Everything had gone so horribly wrong the first time. Things had been better before. Within her there was a twining thread of fear that things would get worse if she went through with it. There was still the threat Mahler would not make it through the winter, and then where would she be?

Her eye focused suddenly on the dark figure of her mate across the stream. Like him, Wylla couldn't let herself believe the sickness was totally gone, but he seemed better lately. That was something to be thankful for. She pushed away her thoughts of the future and planted herself firmly in the present.

With a girlish yip meant to entice him to play, Wylla bowed and slapped the snow with her forepaws. Come get me!

his mind at last softened when wylla sought to entice him into play. mahler, reminded warmly of their time in the hollow, answered with a baritone woofing that carried across the water. he splashed into the shallows and forded; he shook upon the bank and nipped at the air.
his strides were more careful. but mahler was no less playful, and he bounded after her with the near unabashedness of a younger creature.
wintertime reminded him of the eternal coldness upon sagtannet.
wylla reminded him of what it meant to be home.
she was far more agile than him. but the gargoyle would keep pace at the borderline of his ability, enlivened by the frigid atmosphere.

She waited just long enough for Mahler to cross the river and shake out his fur. As soon as his legs kicked into motion, she bounded away with great leaping strides. Wylla was not only younger than Mahler, but more spry by far; like her mother before her, the only sign of aging she would show until delving far into her elder years was the gradual lightening of her coat.

Mahler strove to keep pace, and Wylla let him, for the most part. Each time he drew close enough that he could reach out and snag her tail, if he wished, she would careen away, laughing lightly into the frosty air. The third occurrence of this, she swung around and flung her arm forward to launch a pawful of powdered snow at him.

it was as if age had no pull upon wylla. they had both been scarred by the physical demands of their kind and their rank, but only he seemed to still suffer from some malaise that was no longer connected to sickness or old injury. it was the sort of thing again that could not be mended, a sadness that he could not commit in full to this fairy-ring of light and space and wylla, not if it would be
fear then, still lodged somewhere under his ribcage.
mahler thought he might capture his wife in the last moment, but her strong limb flexed and he was suddenly pelted, half-blind with snow. the man gave a bison's heavy snort and bulled after her, head down as he shook the white from his face and sought to grab for her though he could not quite see her direction.

Bullseye! Wylla met Mahler's snort with a chime of laughter and made as though to sprint away once more, but deliberately hesitated long enough that when he grabbed for her, she tumbled into the snow as if struck by a bulldozer.

Nooo! she wailed in defeat, trying and failing to contain the grin pulling at her cheeks. She flailed in place and shoved her paws against his broad chest and belly in light, playful punches, all while pretending to drown in the white fluffiness all around them.

mahler growled lowly and nipped at her breastbone. the snow rose around them and his arms tightened around wylla briefly.
he pressed her lightly into the drifts, chuckling, but her lithe frame beneath his had changed their romping into something more pointed. he was male after all, and suddenly aware of the warmth rising between them.
the [graf lifted his crown from where he had been aiming ticklish kisses toward wylla's stomach, only looking at her for a long and heated moment.

Mahler caged her between his legs and leaned down to muss the fur on her breast, earning a nip to his whiskers. She settled back in the snow, sweeping her tail in slow arcs that swept powder over his broad paws. Her diminutive one rose up to rest the inside of the wrist against his muzzle, the white of her toes less stark against his greying features than she recalled.

She knew the way the light smoldered in his gaze. She narrowed hers mischievously, baring her teeth in a teasing grin and flicking her tongue out at him. Whatcha gonna do about it? she goaded, splaying out on full display below him and remembering another time she had teased in similar fashion, testing his resolve as she did now.

mahler glanced down with a lasting and approving look. he too remembered the first time she had done this. the laugh that rose in his throat was husky, and his voice had dropped some octaves by the time he had gathered himself to speak again. 
"you are insolent indeed, frau vylla," he said, lowering himself atop her lithe frame so she might experience the ruddy change she had wrought in him, teasing her with short movements.
and then his strong arms went around her; he easily rolled the she-wolf atop himself and lay back now, looking up at her with a mischievous and loving glance.
"perhaps i vill make myself your servant," he threatened, his purpled eyes darkened with pleasure and delight.

Wylla thought she knew the mind of a man. She thought she knew what he would do next and was prepared for it. The muscles in her legs were ready to spring up into a stand. Mahler's teasing seemed to confirm her assumption, right up until he did something else entirely.

With a wild giggle, Wylla was lifted from the ground and rolled atop Mahler so that now it was he who laid on his back and she left to awkwardly straddle his bulkier figure. Feeling like she would tumble down either side of him at any moment, she sought to steady herself by hugging his broad neck. She pulled back her black ears in mocking affront.

Do you mean to imply you aren't already? she asked with an exaggerated scoff. The nerve of you! Why, she went on, pitching her voice higher and adopting a posh accent, I ought to send you to fetch me the finest bull elk for my supper!

wylla's laughter charmed mahler. "ach, you are right. forgive me. how could i forget my place," mahler drawled dryly, "beneath you." he gave a lewd flex of his heavy body in the snow to demonstrate and then chuckled, simply lying back to look at her.
his eyes were loving upon each detail of her features: her cheek, her mouth, even the empty socket where she had given her sight there for him and for the pack who had not so fiercely defended her.
he had been of no account then.
mahler pulled himself back to the present, lifting up somewhat to caress her face with several kisses. his heart thudded beneath her own, for wylla always had the ability to remind the gargoyle that he had never loved so deeply before her.

Hope it's cool to fade this here, looking to wrap everything from before the dissolution of Rivenwood!

Her laughter swirled away into something smokier when Mahler shifted his body below her. She thought back to Grimnismal, how she had teased him about offering "himself" and how even after the birth of their daughter and son, she would have been offended by his forwardness. Now she embraced it. It meant he was doing better, and now that she was more self-assured in their relationship, why not take all the intimacy that came with it?

She really could have a bite to eat, but it was with a different sort of hunger that she nipped at his chin and whiskers before sliding away. She didn't always take note of his strong musculature or the handsome cut of his shoulders and jaw, but she admired them now. With a challenging snort, Wylla leaned down to murmur, come and get me, in his ear before bounding off into the snow, a suggestive wiggle of her thin hips beckoning his arms.