Sawtooth Spire a single spark that claims the whole forest

Stag's heart had been burdened as of late, heavy with the grief that he knew Phaedra would soon have to bear around her neck like a yoke.

Once, he had lost his father, and it seemed the world was closing in on itself.

Then, his brother. 

Gone, without a trace.

And then.. he had lost his sister; one by one his family fractured off and splintered, until at last his mother too had gone, and Stag was all that remained.

That grief he knew all too well, and he remembered how he too had regressed: how he had chewed his nails down to their quicks and had isolated himself for weeks on end; how he had lost the capability to talk and to sleep, and how he had wandered like an itinerant zombie without purpose until at last, Mahler breathed fire back into him.

So, he slept outside Wylla's den -- wary of her teeth, but knowing soon he would see signs of himself in Phaedra. That soon he would hear her voice cry out thinly into the cold night, as his had done;

That soon he might hear her soft sobs beneath the susurration of cicadas and batwings, and know at last sorrow's arrow had heavily hit its mark.

He woke suddenly, the night sounds and air rushing to his senses. Somewhere nearby he heard rustling and calling for Thade -- Phaedra, calling into the chorus of droning cicadas. "Phaedra," Stag hissed, catching the scent of urine and fear. "It's me Stag, I'm outside." He did not know what state the girl would greet him, but he hung outside the den all the same with his breath held in nervousness.