Wapun Meadow sonnenbaden

why still did he think of her?
plagued dreams drove the gargoyle to wakefulness; he found himself traveling in an easterly direction before the sun rose. shale slipped between his claws as he climbed with resolute focus a wide ridge, but mahler only allowed himself a brief respite before he descended.
a deer-trail led the shadowpriest from the range; by late morning it loomed over him, but his paws had found softer ground and his body an easier clime. here the spoor of elk; here he was not a diasporan, simply a single traveler moving in no particular direction across a meadow rife with colour.
in his mind, mahler recounted the names of the women that had entered his life, only to be summarily removed or otherwise distracted. ruenna, honey-eyed and intelligent, a gentle spark of intuition against his heavier scrutiny. but she had gone, and he had not.
takiyok, fierce wintry she-warrior whose sense of loyalty was matchless. had he not felt in his breast a stirring for her also? but she and stigmata had made a contract. mahler saw no place for himself under such, and thus his fondness for her would remain quiet. 
ketzia too had inspired interest in mahler; he did not know her half as well, but her limpid eyes and lithe form had promised things that the gargoyle was unused to desiring. now she lay abed with stigmata’s newest brood, a poor decision on both their parts, and he passed judgement in his heart over his beloved kill-brother for his disrespect toward takiyok. 
it was clear to mahler now that if he wanted such things as stigmata had been able to achieve, perhaps he must relinquish his fanciful notions of romance, for thus far they had gotten him nowhere but overlooked.