The Tangle breathe

a shattered clay vessel.
he had no thoughts for the wolves of rusalka.
mahler left the borders of the peak and wandered unseeing toward the thick morass that lay between sagtannet and the cliffside; he felt as though the ground might swallow him.
the scent of the seawolves was near now; it enraged some tortured part of the gargoyle, and he lunged to identify the figure, so that when he came upon a familiar, feminine face etched in scars, it was with the full bristle and flag of his high plume.