Little Goat Mountain bewusstsein

in her voice was sarah's judgement, sarah's doubt that he could do correctly by the children he sought to father. and there was the barb of wylla's own tongue, the sting of her showing suddenly in his meticulously planned life to criticize how he would go about it long after she had left diaspora to run after tiercel.
the verdict passed was damning; mahler fell silent a long moment, trudging through the gathering snow with lavender eyes focused ahead.
"when stigmata died, he left behind seven scarcely grown children that i raised in his stead as i vas able. before that, i became midvife to diaspora, and i vhelped one of his own litters. i vas called avay to attend another birth, and then another."
jaw tensed somewhat despite himself. "i tended their mothers through the pregnancies, and even when those children left diaspora, i traveled to see that they vere safe. and they vere not mine."
another brief spate of silence as mahler grappled with what he assumed to be wylla's insinuation, when all the while it compounded his fear that he was making the wrong choice.
"it is easier, vylla," he ground quietly, "to enter into loveless contractual agreements than it ever vas letting myself consider being romantic. at least in this vay, somevone is satisfied vith their lot." bitterness to tinge the snowy air now: mahler settled himself into impassivity.