Arrow Lake jusqu'à demain

he wandered, for his thoughts had fractured, and somehow he must gather their pieces and remold them, remold himself. and so, as it was all he knew to do, mahler removed himself to the borders for an extended patrol of their long territory. gone was the time when he had believed diaspora could hold all the sunspire themselves; mahler had come to doubt that they would survive the winter, not with so many young mouths to feed.
the earth was warm beneath his paws, promise of a summertime heat that had yet to abate; he crossed beneath the cool shadows of a birch-stand and lay his eyes upon the tall shadow cast by a lone, ancient oak tree. a sudden and brazen thought came to the gargoyle, but he put it away, opting to continue on as dragomir's face swam before his wounded mind's eye.
in time, mahler came upon the slender form of a dark girl, near enough to diaspora to warrant a pausing in his own tracks. charcoal ears flicked forward; he studied her for a long moment before chuffing to garner her attention on the tail end of a slow approach.