Wapun Meadow sonnenbaden

why still did he think of her?
plagued dreams drove the gargoyle to wakefulness; he found himself traveling in an easterly direction before the sun rose. shale slipped between his claws as he climbed with resolute focus a wide ridge, but mahler only allowed himself a brief respite before he descended.
a deer-trail led the shadowpriest from the range; by late morning it loomed over him, but his paws had found softer ground and his body an easier clime. here the spoor of elk; here he was not a diasporan, simply a single traveler moving in no particular direction across a meadow rife with colour.
in his mind, mahler recounted the names of the women that had entered his life, only to be summarily removed or otherwise distracted. ruenna, honey-eyed and intelligent, a gentle spark of intuition against his heavier scrutiny. but she had gone, and he had not.
takiyok, fierce wintry she-warrior whose sense of loyalty was matchless. had he not felt in his breast a stirring for her also? but she and stigmata had made a contract. mahler saw no place for himself under such, and thus his fondness for her would remain quiet. 
ketzia too had inspired interest in mahler; he did not know her half as well, but her limpid eyes and lithe form had promised things that the gargoyle was unused to desiring. now she lay abed with stigmata’s newest brood, a poor decision on both their parts, and he passed judgement in his heart over his beloved kill-brother for his disrespect toward takiyok. 
it was clear to mahler now that if he wanted such things as stigmata had been able to achieve, perhaps he must relinquish his fanciful notions of romance, for thus far they had gotten him nowhere but overlooked. 

The scent of deer is only of mild interest to her, but with little else to do, she can't help trailing it idly. There's not much of interest to her in this meadow, but she'd needed a break from @Eastwood, if only to sate her need for occasional isolation. Her departure from home so many moons ago had made her realize the true value of alone time, and she's eager to remind herself now.
Unfortunately, it seems the universe has other plans for her. A figure in the distance catches her eye, and for a moment she considers turning back to pursue her desired solitude. Her curiosity wins, as it always does, and after a brief pause she sets off toward the stranger at a slightly faster pace. She chuffs softly when she's within a few yards, slowing to allow the other time to protest or evade her approach if he wishes. She's curious, yes, but not curious enough to deal with a grumpy stranger.

at a distance he saw the antlered herd, and slowed, intending to search among them for any injured that could be reported. yet it was not to be — mahler turned the baleful coldflame of his lavender stare upon a curiously spotted beast, wolfish in appearance, though truly they could not only be blooded like one of his fellows, not with a coat of leopard spots.
he was intrigued, and wore his dour countenance only a moment longer before he relaxed into a more inviting stance. from here, the glint of ruby eyes shone; it was an altogether new and exotic beast who had crossed his path. perhaps she was like kazimir, mixed with the ones called 'dog,' though mahler did not hold to the fanatical purist ideas clutched by many of his own peers.
when the other had drawn near enough for the gargoyle to know they were both female, and alone, he lowered his muzzle in a brief bow, but said nothing for the present.

Her approach is met with a silent gesture from the lilac-eyed male, and she takes it as an invitation, opting to ignore the herd in the distance. Her lips curve up slightly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her expression in response as she comes to a halt several feet from him, tail swaying broadly. Her front half dips, forelimbs stretched out as she drops into a playful bow, eyes sparkling with her own invitation — and a hint of a challenge. A soft rumble passes her lips, head hovering just above the ground with ears standing tall as she waits for the smoke-furred wolf's response. She is, after all, a dog — and mandatory play-time is in the job description.

whatever he had thought of the woman faded swiftly in the wake of her playful revelation. a disapproving twitch of his lips was mahler’s only response; he turned away from her, settling his eyes firmly upon the distant herd.
belatedly it occurred to him that he was being rather unfair; this woman was not the cause of his unhappiness, and perhaps a romp would lift his bitter spirits. 
casting her a wry smile, an arched brow, mahler chuffed once and then began to dash toward the elk, intending to scatter them with her help for the mere diversion of it.

sliiiight pp/assumptions here, let me know if it needs editing <3

The initial cold reception leaves her a little affronted; it's something she's never experienced before, having yet to realize that such bitterness exists within the world. As far as she's concerned, dude is just a dick — but she doesn't have any time to act on the assumption. Just as she starts to rise, ears tilting back slightly, she catches the smile cast in her direction. Moody, she thinks even as another, more obvious grin of her own follows his chuff. It's clear to her immediately that this is no hunt (or, she hopes as much), and she bolts after him without hesitation, unable to resist the promise of chaos whether the stranger intends it or not.
She pursues the dark wolf solely at first, following close behind until she's able to draw up beside him and diverge from his path. The first sign of movement within the herd as the pair approaches, frantic and confused, is simply too much excitement for the girl, and several barks burst from her maw in rapid succession. The sound immediately intensifies the hooved creatures' reaction, to her delight, and she finds her teeth itching for the feeling of flesh between them — but she makes sure to stay well out of reach. Her gaze flits to her dark-coated companion every few moments, curious about how Mr. Moody will handle the herd and half-wondering if he'll flip his switch again and start ignoring the elk.

they were off, odd coursers on fleet limbs after the herd. she was an excitable lot, he decided without malice, ears fluting backward at the sound of her staccato barking.
he too stayed out of range of the pounding hooves, wending between the stampeding bodies with tongue lolling.
the lead male of the herd found the wolves’ antics less than amusing, however, and in an eyeblink was hurtling back through the fleeing forms of his fellows, head lowered.
mahler saw little recourse than to shoulder his companion roughly aside, hoping she would stumble widely and avoid the sweeping antlers; he himself took the bite of a razor tine low on his neck.
hissing in pain, the gargoyle snarled a challenge and snapped toward the elk, arresting its charge, hoping to turn it aside with the shock of his response.