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

stag.
mahler had not truly thought of him for many months, assuming that the boy had followed dutifully wherever wylla led. it was not impetus toward anger that moved him now, only regret, for his own behavior as well as the things that had sent stag after her in the first place. he had not made a good home for the boy who was eldest son in his heart. 
they had not — the gargoyle grasped the understanding, and faced the returned insistence of her sungold eye. he did not speak, did not move to argue or complain — it had been months ago, and he had said proud, cruel things to the woman who had not chosen him.
even now, she had not, but this time it did not matter if she ever slept near him or shared more with mahler. he was enraptured by the very conception that he might share a land with her once more.
"i did not either," he said quietly, laying his voice against her own with a single statement. temptation, yes; but he had fixed the vow forefront in his head.
"no travel until you are able to valk," the doktor assured. a cast of his lilac stare at the canopy above him, the gentle lap of the waters nearby. it would be a good place to rest, and while she slept, he would look for the comfrey and cobwebs the wound needed to bind itself.
stooping closer to chastely feather kiss between her ears if wylla allowed, and then he was settling himself nearby, the warmth of him present and solid along the small reaches of her own body once more, ready to keep sentinel as she slumbered.
not yet. he could not leave yet.