Swiftcurrent Creek Out in the garden

the woman followed; mahler did not look fully upon her again, though he matched his stride to hers that they might walk alongside one another. "our numbers are small," the gargyole explained, "therefore i take pains to enforce our borders where i might." to demonstrate, he reared up on hind legs along a birch, ripping at the paper-thin bark with his foreclaws. as he descended, mahler passed his impassive gaze to the woman,  wondering if she would follow suit.