Spotted Eagle Mountain die unmöglichkeit

Her breath was easier to find as the gargoyle returned to reality—the reeling back from the edge of a terrible disaster stirring her to follow quickly after him, the sharp surprise of his voice only met with her slender muzzle grazing along his cheeks and nape, reassured that the man had not fallen to an untimely demise and joined her beloved in the stars above.

“Mahler,” she whispered smokily, the worry emanating from her as she pulled back, watching him carefully. Diaspora was falling apart—and the stress of it perhaps only fuelled his sickness moreso. “You’ve wandered,” was all she responded, for she wasn’t as familiar with this part of the mountain as their old home. She was beginning to feel the cold of the jagged mount’s cliffs, yawning as they lured potential death, and it gave her mind further pause that something was to be done. And she would do it with or without the man before her.

But now was not the time for such a conversation.

“Let’s get you home,” she coaxed, her gaze sweeping over him as the cool winter wind bristled the soft hairs of her pelt. “Can you walk? Or would you like to rest, first?”