Nova Peak blutbefleckt

what thoughts darted through her head? mahler felt her small but strong weight alongside him as his eyes closed, his great figure weaving a single step across the drenched sward.
be it stubborn masculinity or his own reservations, something within mahler rebelled at his need to lean upon wylla now. the man did not feel deserving of her support; he was disconsolate to be so weak, evidenced by the miserable tightness of his stoneflower stare.
"a den, first, i think," mahler grunted, remembering belatedly that he had slept outside any shelter since arriving at this peak. it would no longer do; he must bow to the needs of his wounded body and seek protection from the elements.
"then i can be more available," the gargoyle rambled, for the both of them knew his limits were grievous; he would be out of commission for a long time.
refusing to think of that now, mahler focused upon putting one broad paw before the other, breath a cringing hiss between his teeth as each movement jarred his punctured flank, pulled at the skin of his neck where the poultice had dried sticky and correctly clumped into the fur surrounding the wound.
"ve vill make a healer of you yet, vylla," mahler observed with an affectionate undertone to his pained expression, letting his beloved guide them into the territory that was newly their own.