Sawtooth Spire i’m looking down the barrel of a string-bean

phaedra did not come along; mahler had already turned through the undergrowth, lowering his muzzle for weary snuffling along the trail of thade's scent. instead, the laughter of his insouciant liebling trickled brooklike and pleasant behind him.
mahler made a pointed about-face. at any other time, he would have been amused to hear phaedra's new regard of the slick-skinned thing; at this very moment, his nerves were fraught. summarily, the gargoyle spread his heavy jaws, closed them carefully around the round sides of the wolf-child, and carried her at a trot toward the den where he desperately hoped astraeus still slept.
thade would have to be fetched next; herding the wildcat whims of his children was a feat.