Hushed Willows vergnügen

disgusted was not an emotion that mahler oft experienced. he was an arrogant creature, however, and the sting of alarian's name mingled with the seawolf's shouting struck both chords within him. whatever the cherub had done, the gargoyle did not feel he was of the disposition needed to lead a pack, let alone a single wolf.
had mahler been anyone else, he might have scruffed the insolent child and shoved him to the snow for his continued outbursts. mali, they called him — a boy, unfit and disrespectful, in dire need of direction these women had not and could not provide. there was no sense of status here, nor cohesion. 
unceremoniously, and in a gesture that had been long-arriving, the child was ordered out of his home. mahler backed several steps then, but his dark ears were lifted with the intrigue the moment provided. this was not his affair, and he glanced only once to the dark woman as she begged the boy to come away and then retreated from the scene.
silence fell. mahler waited to see what mali would do, and the arrogance rose again. the boy needed a world of men, not the perfumed embraces of women he clearly did not respect. and while he doubted stigmata wanted aught to do with so young a pup, he was not so young that he could not contribute.