Nova Peak jämmerlich

a little contessa stepping silently from the open door of a carriage, polite and aloof as the edge of a bloom-studded glacier. mahler despaired a little to himself, but did not see fit to wallow. not with such land reaching before them, as of yet unexplored.
and so mahler did not speak, only set upon another gentle swelling trail that led alongside the larchtrees where the taloned skywolf had come to roost. he did not linger here, feeling the springy press of grass underfoot. by and by their towpath began to descend, lowering father and daughter into the heart of the proud trees and their hard bodies.
plainly in the mud before them, the wide, cloven track of a giant ruminant who had wandered through the weald. mahler scarcely knew the word for the beast which had made the mark; he pondered it a short while, nosing over each part of the indentation. 
veering from their pathway, mahler led phaedra up a small rise into an ankle-height stand of pungent juniper, and when his lavender eyes lit upon the massive animal with its palmate antlers, lipping blueberries from verdant leaves, mahler glanced down toward his taciturn edelweiss, wondering at her reaction. the grazing bull was below them now, a distance between he and the wolven pair, but mahler returned his attentions swiftly to the animal, wary and respectful.