Jade Fern Grove lift back and see the darkness hid

"never be sorry vith me," mahler told her gravely, flesh beginning its guilty lilt toward the heat of her breath and how her slender muzzle sought the aspect of him beneath the weathered coat. for a long moment, the graf only let it be, eyelids veiling the tired welcome of his stoneflower stare. 
wylla.
and he knew that so long as his radiant thorncloud love remained fierce and existent in his world, he would never be — he would never want to be free. nyx had tried to love him, and now she was gone, with their daughters, and mahler had not gone to moonspear; he had grieved and let them move to the hallowed place of memories in his mind; his failing; his passion helpless when he thought of her.
unfair to respond to iana now, not after what had been shared. unfair to allow her any hope of possessing some piece of him.
mahler belonged in entirety to another.
and so he sank his lips down to the crown of her head and drew back in the next moment, apologetic, reassuring. "it is good to find an — ally, in all things, not only vones of pack life." a companion.