Barrow Fields Dear hero imprisoned

the give of flesh between his jaws vindicated mahler; the collapse of the other brought a pleased growl from his throat. feral — unthinking; mahler paused all the same, the fury held in his hard lilac stare ebbing at the sight of the downed boy. there was no worth to continuing their struggle; the musiker had simply wished to prove for himself the limits of a strength that had gone unchallenged since he had come to the wilds.
his steps were slow, carrying him backwards, away from the boy. and as his anger abated, so did the adrenaline that had fired his rage. the agony from the wolfbites he now wore began to waken, but the dappled brute was still. "get out of here," mahler ordered in the clipped thickness of his accent, stare warning the upstart of his intention to kill if he was tried again.