Swiftcurrent Creek kindertotenlieder

dark auds raised sharply; mahler had heard the soft tread of her little paws but reacted late. a curve tugged at the dour corners of his mouth; in response to the duckling's edict, the gargoyle gave a wry thump of his heavier plume against the ground. her countenance softened, and mahler was able to observe the growth that had overtaken the child in his brief absence.
presently, when he had filed away the data into the tireless archival system that was the inside of his ponderous skull, mahler gave a low grunt and raised up his wide paw, revealing the downy gift. "tail," mahler told her, lilac eyes flicking over her features for a sign of recognition, or perhaps curiosity that could become hunting interest later. "hirsch," the brute rumbled a moment later.
it had not yet occurred to mahler that the child's age might present an obstacle to the learning of another language in addition to that of her mother. for the charcoal musiker, ignorance was vast, but deliberate: he was not certain of her age, but children must learn, and those grown must teach. a rather intractable thought that inhabited no space in his current consciousness as he lowered his nose to the tail, snuffling at it loudly.
"hirsch." having never before carried a conversation along with a child before, the man found it was easiest to stop his shifts and adopt the tongue with which he was most familiar. "es ist für dich, mäuslein." he murmured, a flood of words for the otherwise implacable mahler; he crossed his forelegs and waited to see what the duckling would make of it all.