Little Goat Mountain bewusstsein

Apparently, Wylla replied. She could appreciate an ambitious wolf. More times than she could count had she displayed ambition of her own, but the birth of Tiercel had tempered that somewhat. It could rise again in her at any moment in her daughter's absence, but never in the way this Stigmata possessed. An entire mountain range? Admirable, yes, if not foolish, and she could see why Mahler might follow such a wolf, if that was indeed what had transpired.

It occurred to her that Mahler was being strangely quiet—strange only in that he had been verbose only moments before. Comfortable silence was always welcomed by Wylla, but there was something decidedly uncomfortable about this. Not because of him! He'd done nothing wrong. It was all her, her immature inability to handle confusing and conflicting matters like the adult she was supposed to be.

So she broke the silence: Wanna play twenty-one questions while we look? You can start if you want. It was better than silence and would allow them to get to know one another better, and she chose to overlook the vulnerability such a game could inflict.