Sleepy Fox Hollow Gain the weight of you, then lose it

wylla, begging him to stay.
to remain.
mahler was still. perhaps he had once thought her utterance would bring him joy, but it only worried the man. he had only ever known her fierce, even in times less than hale. her voice now reminded him of the cough trapped indefinitely in his chest; a glimpse of something unknowable.
and he could not slip again into a doktor's mien with her. not now, and not ever.
"i vill be back. it is a promise." the feverplant grew along the edge of the stream; his frame might only fade from view for a handful of moments. and yet it would feel as an eternity; once he had tasted again something like warmth from wylla, mahler was silently wretched to have it again.
would it end, once she was well?
"you need the plant again," he urged, softly, stoneflower eyes suffused with apology as he moved away in a slow clip.
but true to his word he was returned within minutes, jaws filled with a bouquet of the verdant stalks dripping with red berries. he tested her pulse with a brush of his lips to her wrist, then stripped the fruit from the stems and chewed them as phaedra had, leaning over wylla to reapply the thick liquid.
this time, the shudder of her skin beneath his touch did not feel so dire — he worked in stoic quiet, heart thudding beneath his ribcage.