Nova Peak schädigen

pain girdled into confusion as her gaze slid to a blankslate state. again the question, and mahler was incensed by it, by her insinuation that he did not care. and her reference to nyx as an obstacle, when it was only he who should bear her wrath. "i did," mahler rasped, words stolen from his jawline in a wisp of white steam. "and now she is gone."
mahler did not enjoy the glissade of dubiety that raved in the back of his mind; that he did not understand. in this interlude alone he felt as he had bent so very hard he might snap, his vertebrae spilling onto the winterhaunt soil of their mountain. 
he had no pride left to give wylla, no comprehension of what it was she so needed from him. demanded from him. 
and now, standing in her minscule frame, demanding if this unknown, unseen thing mattered to mahler, when to his heart she had never defined what it was she needed — only that he had denied it to her.
did wylla mean herself? was that the note of it then, that she must hear from his lips that she mattered — how! could this woman not see the things he had done for her? what more did she want? what more did he possess?
his stoneflower stare flecking with ice. "the night she told me that she vas leaving and taking the ... taking them vith her," he swung his scarmarked muzzle away, gaze away,
"she — she vanted me to ask her to stay, i see now. she told me she vould go to moonspear, and i said —" a bitter, hoarse imprint of a laugh, "i told her that i vould take her there." the immense cruelty of it relived in shifting chesspieces upon the floor of his broken spirit. "because i loved you, and because i knew there vas nothing here for my daughters, and because i vanted her to be free of me. and because i vas selfish, and knew if she vas gone, maybe then i vould have a chance at your forgiveness."
"and before that," mahler sped on in his stony voice, pocked with the pebbling of unshed tears, for they existed, but he was a man, and with a man's greatest flaw: pride. "before that she vanted me to love her back. she said that i made her feel alive," why did he say such things, rushing out of him like swampwater, "and i told her she vas good to me. good to me." a headpat on an expression of love. "because my heart belongs to vone." he paused, fixed the she-wolf with a ponderous stare that at last hid no resentment.  and before that, takiyok, for whom he would always harbor a marrowdeep and guilty affection that simply could not be what she wanted. ketzia, and before that, ruenna, all dashed first by his unsurety, then the eventuality of his ignorance of how best to love.
"now nyx is gone. elke and ciri, gone. it is just us here, vylla, just us and our children and the place that ve built together." hurting now; it crawled into his words. "and you stand here and you say 'does it matter to you?' after you throw my contract vith nyx at me again." 
"but you vill never forgive me. and i have nothing else to give you, vylla. i have been devoted to you in every vay that i can think, yet it is not enough." and he did not think it ever would be, not by the glacial sun blazing in her lovely face.