Sleepy Fox Hollow Where I thought I knew it all before I knew what love was

Maybe it was her shame come to bear against her at last. Maybe it was the surprise and relief that she wouldn't be left alone here with these heavy thoughts and uncertain feelings. Whatever it may be, Mahler's return saw Wylla slumping her shoulders forward in defeat. When she was younger, a more hot-headed yearling, her ire was indefatigable. She could rail for hours on end and find something to snipe at in every response she got. Time had tempered that, too; now her rage was spent and she was left with a complex cocktail of confusing emotions instead.

Who knew for how long.

Why? she asked, muttering into her chest but hoping she would hear all the same. If he was not entitled to his pride then what made her feel like she was so entitled to hers? He was breaking through, though, whittling away the molten stonework she'd placed up against all intruders, if only because he had claimed to love her and she did not know how to process it on top of everything else she felt when it came to Mahler and her continued poor treatment of him. She couldn't turn her head to look at him; her eyes were still wet with unexpected tears from his unwitting reminder of Tiercel, and hot with shame besides. Why are you telling me this now? Why not—

When it mattered?