Arrow Lake trauern

<3

ketzia. she had not slept, it seemed, and who could, save for the ironic slumber that had come to the children left behind by the argent serpent. his lips began to move in rote   monotone, asking after her well being, but mahler fell silent.
she had loved him, and he was dead. she had borne his cubs, and he was dead. the gargoyle need not ask her how she felt. but, if allowed, mahler reached to the she-wolf now, offering the brush of himself in reassurance, for as much as he needed to glean from her.
settling upon his haunches, he watched silently as the thin glow over the distant spires began to brighten. ”vhat vill you do, ketzia?”