Sawtooth Spire You were taught to kill, so you kill like a machine.

Mahler turned his hollow gaze on her, and Nyx could've swore she saw him look right through her. A sable lobe smoothed back against her crown and her uncertainty flared to life, as plaguing thoughts tormented: whatever tragedy has brought him here in this state, it was all your doing.

The tawny Ostrega felt panic rise rapidly, though her fear of being to blame for the unknown was qusickly replaced by a whole different type of terror. Her other lobe fell back and she emitted a strained whine, a wordless apology for the situation and for her careless tease.

Her thoughts turned to Wylla. Despite their rocky past and even more uncertain future, Nyx could not help but feel sorry for what the coastal she-wolf undoubtedly felt in the absence of her little son. Yellow stare swept over her own brood as they placed themselves in their father's embrace, and felt emotion constrict her throat at the thought of losing either in such a way. Not knowing would destroy her, she was certain, and bit back tears that pricked her eyes.

She blinked, and breathed in deep. "Oh, Mahler," she sighed, knowing she wanted to reach for him, to comfort him, but unsure if he would reject her tenderness. After a moment of deafening silence, she sank to the den floor beside him and looked to him solemnly before she reached over Elke to press her nose to his dark forehead.