Noctisardor Bypass bedauert

Wylla's mind turned inexplicably to Stag, then. The boy had always been so mild-mannered around those he trusted, and she regretted that being around her had turned him so volatile toward Mahler. She was a poisoned well, and he the poor fool sipping from it, and now he was who-knew-where, alone. It turned her stomach to think of Stag out there with no support, after he had given up everything to follow her into the wilderness.

Just another notch on the branch that marked all of Wylla's failures over the years. She resolved to find him when she was well again. Whether he made up with Mahler or not, she could not let him wander out there believing he had been abandoned again. She would want to know, if she was him.

Wylla thought to ask Mahler to keep an eye out for the Sandraudiga, but then kept it to herself. She was certain the Graf would do it. She knew Mahler, the truth of him, enough to know that no matter what, he still loved his brother's son. But she didn't want to put him in a position where Stag might lunge for him again or blame him for what transpired. No. This was her doing, and she would be the one to undo it. Taking responsibility, for once.

Her eyes dropped to the rabbit haunch when Mahler spoke again, and she shook her head, trying to ignore the sour way saliva pooled in the corners of her mouth. No, she said. There's nothing wrong with it. It just makes me feel kinda sick to think about eating. He was right, though, so she added, I'll try again later. Promise.

Then, in the silence that was bound to yawn between them now, something in Wylla cracked all of a sudden. Mahler, I've been... She paused, furrowed her brow and worked her jaws, like the words were physically painful to say. In a sense, they were. It meant admitting that the chasm between them was largely her own doing, despite all the pain his actions had caused her. For every time she claimed Mahler did not truly love her because he was willing to lie with others and split his time and clutch to a piece of dirt rather than building a life with her, she had flung daggers at him and thrashed against his beliefs. What kind of love was that, then? As much as she blamed him for all of it, Wylla was at least equally to blame.

I'm sorry.