Sawtooth Spire honey suckle chocolate-dripping kisses for your love

she turned her eyes back to the sky, and mahler followed the line of the woman's vision. the moon was glowing with a milky light, somehow more luminous now that they had made the high reaches of sawtooth their home. 
in his heart, mahler missed the lake that had first been diaspora. so much had occurred in that locale; he almost wanted to return to it now. the musiker had not forgotten the ghosts that were tethered indelibly to diaspora.
to him.
he assumed this woman the newest thrall mentioned by his co-leader. if so, she had been active, but mahler did not comment upon it now, enjoying the solitude with another of sagtannet.