Noctisardor Bypass the night is long, and the path is dark

rivenwood by contrast had become more of a home to mahler than he had expected. wylla was here, phaedra was here, and now ciri. and although the shredded pieces of what had once meant family to the gargoyle could never be mended, he had still found his own sort of contentment in it.
before the graf, a grey-red fox ran. he did not quite pursue, but he kept diligently after it. the little ones, after all, were not too old to be carried off or otherwise harmed by an eager and desperate thief.
perhaps he was too cautious, too overbearing, but mahler felt it was unnecessary to shame himself for that. and so he padded after, satisfied to see that the terrified fox had left his land altogether.
in the haloing light of dawn, he spotted amadis, the poet who had recently come to join their number. the charcoal man approached quietly, clearing his throat with perhaps errant politeness as he set his gaze upon the loveliness of the expanding day, and shared a moment of quietude with the elfwisp prince and his throat of polished words.