Broken Boulder veränderung

How odd to choose a path to emasculate oneself, thinks Arcas. This man may have had women in his youth to teach him of these skills, certainly someone to use as a guinea pig since then, but Arcas doubted he had anyone in his life now; there was no need to learn something so beneath the modern man as this, not when surrounded by women. His thoughts were biased but he did not know. 
Where was this man's harem? Gone to pasture, thinks Arcas, and not too long before the man chases after them.

I am Mahler, says the dark man.
Arcas, he answers. 

Mahler has finished pulling the snare free.

Are many others following you? he asks.

It was not quick work but it was efficient and appreciated, and Arcas is thankful he had chosen this random spot to rest when he had; Arcas fidgets now, feeling the paste begin to dry across his wound. He monitors Mahler (his movements as he works, his rate of breathing, his affect) in a state of hypervigilance that has been present since his childhood, ears twitching to every change around him.