Otter Creek trickle down the spine

mahler watched maegi in silence as words cut from her muzzle, understanding that they came from a place of great agony. it ended with a bare admission of her mother's intention for murder, and here mahler grew cold. how could such ideas be turned against a child, let alone one that had been grown in the same body? he did not understand, and yet he saw the stamp of such ugliness upon maegi, how it had attributed itself to her current state — or so he thought.
"if you vere not meant to be here, you vould not have such spirit and determination as you have now. she vas wrong," mahler declared. he had not know the bitch, but he had taken a liking to the pale blackfeather before him, and maegi deserved no scorn. "it is all right to be tired, and to veep, and to be angry. these changes have made fools of us all," the man admitted with a low sigh. 
"all ve can be now is adaptable. acceptant." he searched for her bicolored eyes now, seeking, seeking. "are you these things, maegi?"