Arrow Lake verräter

he found her disconsolate, downcast. drago and isi romped nearby, playing with the rotund clumsiness of still-new puppies, and mahler lay down the diverting rattle among them. then, and only then, did his attention travel to aurëwen; the gargoyle appraised her with a still gaze, choosing to settle on his haunches some feet away. 
the dissipation of verx's scent upon the border, the state in which he had discovered the motherdove now — it did not bode well for the little family's patriarch. and yet these were children born to diaspora, which meant that in a great way the responsibility of their rearing fell to all the pack.
"aurëven," mahler began, and his voice was heavy with the things he did not wish to say. "this is your home, for as long as you vish. it is the home of your children also. but," and here he leveled his implacable lilac stare upon the silver-hewn she-wolf, "he is not velcome back, on pain of attack. i have no respect for a man who abandons his children in the night."
it would rest heavily upon aurëwen, he knew, and wished so much he did not have the curse of directness upon his tongue, but that was how it must be. she must know, for only then could she make decisions regarding the future of her beloved little ducklings.