Noctisardor Bypass teil eins

if laurel meant to move him toward war, mahler felt his shoulders set with resolution. she stood glowing with mahogany-carved spine, those knowing eyes cutting into the viscera of him — yes, this merrick with teeth unknown could descend upon their encampment, and it was his duty as their retired patriarch to search out the danger described by a loyal wolf.
but laurel's passion butted up the natural slow inclination of the gargoyle. it was a trait loathed by so many, and never more than by women left disappointed by mahler's inability to move with aggression toward the heart of any problem. he must decide it for himself, he must study it, he must know it, and then his choice would come. but most did not wait for mahler to thread himself through the eye of the proverbial needle, and for this he meant no blame.
"i vill make a plan, laurel," the shadowpriest said with finality, moving closer in a reassuring way, though he ceased his step quickly, hoping that he would not startle her with his attempt. he would not commit to a conflict, not on her behalf or that of any single individual; mahler was steadfast in this.
but the charred way in which she regarded him quickened his pulse, set the silver-ash upon his hackles abristle; he knew the taste of war and the look of it, and if necessary, would find his glory restored in such a falling.
but mahler knew he only had one battle more left in his ability.