Northstar Vale two feet standing on a principle

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true to his word, mahler kept a wary eye turned toward the vale, frequenting its emptiness with sole patrols that satisfied his inquisitive nature. despite what liri had said, it did not seem as though anyone had begun to settle here; the caches remained half-dug, and her own scent was stale upon the rock where he stood.
nevertheless, there was nothing to say that the would-be vale wolves would not return, and so the gargyole set himself upon a campaign of covering their marks with his own, slashing bark from tree branches, filling the shallow holes. it came to pass that he was on one such mission when the faint familiarity of a feminine scent drifted into the air.
he moved through the trees, searching for liri, and when he found her, mahler did not immediately step forward. something, or someone, had wrought a great change upon her. the woman was almost spectral, a distinctive wound upon the side of her head, and glided through the abandoned vale with little recognition.
after some time had passed, mahler cleared his throat, calling to her with a chuff, and stepped into visbility, more curious than annoyed by her sudden presence.