Nova Peak If you must leave, leave as though fire burns under your feet

mahler's intake of breath was all he mustered in answer to wylla's snap. she had just returned with a grievous wound that surely played upon every physical nerve as well as each heartstring. and he knew, through the great love in his soul he had always borne her, that there would be nothing he might say to soothe her now.
and so the gargoyle was only silent, finishing his chewing and his poultices and his cleansing, until the blood and bits of clinging flesh had been washed away, the round empty socket set with a bound bundle of healing herbs.
"i vill bring you food," as she had done for him. he sought her newly mismatched gaze with a stare that meant to rest a long moment, to convey in silence that he would be to wylla what she had been to him during the mending of his own torn self. and that was how he remained a long moment, before rising to gesture that she should come back to the cave and rest.