Flycatcher Downs beerensaft

NO

mahler spotted the lump of pale fur hunched nearby perhaps too soon for her liking. before her name touched his lips, however, the gargoyle recognized swiftly the tang of crimsonweed trailings. "schatzi," he grunted, hurrying along the trail to sweep her closer, skim over her figure with stare and gentle proddings.
"vas ist passiert?" came the worried fatherly question; he sought the shifting huepattern of her eyes and frowned in a consternation quite unlike his usual impassivity.
determining she was not greatly wounded, the man straightened. he had known not where she had been; tail lashed at his heels and he sighed a low sigh, a quick smile meaning that she need not bear any trepidation.
but still he was filled with his own, and after another moment cleared his throat. "kommen sie. wir werden sie aufräumen lassen." that, at least, to begin: with what he knew.