Swiftcurrent Creek waldmärchen

a name. a home. "it means sir," the gargoyle answered simply, gaze sweeping the ground beneath the molten-gold appraisal of the man called constantine. "i am mahler. i vill hunt. i vill fight." whatever it was the leader wanted, mahler had faith in his physical abilities to provide such for swiftcurrent.
it was with an inner twisting that the musiker stood fast at the brush of loam-hued fur against his own; it was a rite with which he was familiar, but the touches of others were largely unwelcome in the man's world. hiding the grit of his teeth, mahler instead gave a supplicative wriggle of tailtip at his heels, to thank constantine for the acceptance.