Sawtooth Spire unordentlich

She didn't know. Stag was struck by forlorn silence; how could one not know what had reduced their condition so? What had truly happened all those months he had been away from her?

In that moment he wanted to hug her and pull her tight to him and never let go. Never let anything happen to her, never let her get sick or hurt or leave --

but that was not life. Stag knew it, Mahler knew it. His mother knew it.

He glanced to the general, who had slipped some distance away. He did not want Mahler to see him crying, and that rare brand of foolish pride was a powerful percolator to other emotions. "I'd give it all back," Stag bargained desperately, knowing it was futile. He didn't need to be grown up or strong if his mother was sick and ailing -- he would go back to being a child this instant, if his mother could be healthy again. "I don't need it." His lower lip was trembling and his eyes thick with tears that had yet to darken his cheeks. "Where do we take her?" He suddenly asked of Mahler, feeling a sick desperation take hold of him.