Dragoncrest Cliffs Close your eyes and sleep,

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mahler dared not look behind himself to see if the younger man had gotten away; he only faced into the feral hunting glint of the seafoam gaze that rolled their way. refusing to falter beneath the weight of it, mahler lifted his torn muzzle at the other's words. "he fell from the cliff. ve vere not at odds. the voman i vas fighting leapt after him." regardless of why the yearling had come, mahler could not see the death of a potential enemy as a tragedy. "i am sorry."
but neither did he wish to inspire more wrath, for sagtannet beckoned, and mahler must remain alive if he hoped to return to his children.
a slight backstep, then another; wind rose from the sea to rake salt-laden fingers across the edges of his wound. a grunt, one the shadowpriest swallowed down. he would not turn his back upon the hale young warrior, now knowing what anger flowed beneath the surface as if the other were a mountain, his rage molten rock.
bear the brunt of his teeth mahler would, if it came to such — another step back — but beyond that, the eisen saw no positive outcome for himself.
he stared along the outcropping of sea-stone from which the hunter's friend had fallen, dizzied and fighting inwardly for strength. if the other did not speak, or rise with the intention of attacking, mahler would begin to turn away, blinking first in the direction the boy had gone before making his slow progression in the direction of the single distant mountain where his wolves waited.