Sleepy Fox Hollow herzschmerz

while he welcomed the gentle chastisement inherent in the other's inquiry, mahler found himself moving swiftly toward self-beration. any manner of ill fate could have befallen him while he slept; he was a fool, to have almost endangered diaspora with his sheer carelessness. "you are right," he chuffed, lavender stare upon the distant herd. "i am our healer and midvife. ve have been ... prolific."
there was little connection to be made between the two, outside of mahler's own apparent exhaustion. hoping that the stranger would align what he had said with why he had been sleeping alone, the gargoyle shifted. "you are alone?" came his own question, posed at the edge of his next breath.