Whitebark Stream lied der nacht

the musiker had found some semblance of peace when awareness of another entered his senses; mahler drew himself up to full height but otherwise found no reason to posture or threaten this wolf. a male, blood-hewn gaze knowing, a brutish and titanic beast comprised of frost and silver. a match for mahler himself, and this the gargoyle appreciated. the battleworn finesse of the other man demanded both caution and respect, both given by his own extended muzzle toward the newcomer.
though his posture was still tense with wariness, when no immediate blow came, mahler unwound his tight stance. the hard lavender of his gaze appraised the other; he glanced over one shoulder toward the land of the leaderless pack. and while it seemed a lark to rush in, to demand what would be given, noctisardor beckoned, and the gargoyle decided he would not be turned from it. "i am mahler," he introduced in a mutter.