Arrow Lake trauern

he descended with ketzia, unwilling to be parted from her in such an hour. and while he intended only to soothe her, mahler had grown aware of his own desolation, his inability to isolate himself more.
the gargoyle lay beside the little mother, turning so that she might tuck herself into the crook of his frame if she so chose, and watched her with a soft anguish to his stern expression.
”vhen my vife died, i lost my sense of self as vell,” he admitted, tearing back a veil that had become sodden to its secrets. ”i vandered and i searched and nothing came to me, until i let go of her.”
”it vill take some time, ketzia, but sometimes ve are passed through fire to harden us for vhat is to come.”