Wild Berry Meadow [bwp] unfähig

backdated to 9/16

when mahler awoke, it was to the earth astir beneath him. without the aegis of the mountains, he was adrift. 
the gargoyle blinked.
in the distance, the sunspire reared. his head throbbed; he focused upon the shadows of the mountains rearing against a clouded sky. the ground heaved, and he again was thrown to its loam, and recalled as he lay there the violence that had sundered him in the first.
alive, yes, well, yes; diaspora — did they suffer also?
how could he have left them? now, of all times, and for whom? a wing-broke dove in which there lay no true future he could see? disgusted with himself, mahler lurched forward, unsteady, stumbling as the stones churned underfoot. he was angered; the rage lay with himself and his own choices, not with her, but for now he could not think of her face.
he must get home.
blood began in a slow trickle down the left side of his face from a tear upon his cheek, but the shadowpriest did not feel it as he grimly lay eyes upon his destination.