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

there was indeed a change in wylla: her spirit had aged. it was not a matter of appearance, for to his eye she remained the same brash huntress that had accepted him into the sea-pack so long ago.
tiercel. duckling. the only child mahler had ever wished was truly his in all ways. he had visited when wylla avoided him, spending long swathes of time with the daughter of the wolf who seemed to consider him an enemy.
but wylla had never forbidden it; mahler visited up until the day that he woke to find them both gone.
and now she had returned for the half-grown duckling who had run away from home, who had stolen that of her mother in the process. tiercel, prodigal dove. and mahler with his selfish declarations of love! how could he have been so arrogant?
”she vill return to you. you are far too undeniable for her to stay avay.” i wanted her to be mine, came the thought again, spurring shame into an ember of wakefulness within mahler. 
but she glowed before him; she had been transformed. he had not thought he would see her again, let alone from her lips hear the pain and emptiness of childless arms. 
no small wonder that wylla too was at a loss for where they might go from here. softly he looked upon her, admiring again the fact that he was able to do so, that she was bodily before him, before shaking himself from the reverie and blinking.
”vould you like to stay here for the night? not vith me,” mahler rushed to say, flushing beneath his dark fur. ”but you have traveled much and i vould ... i vant .. umm,” she made of him a little fool, stammering; mahler chuckled mirthlessly and glanced upon the earth.