Sleepy Fox Hollow brimming and broken and somehow

phaedra looked at him and he felt the weight of her eyes: the questioning, the want for truth. the realities he had given in words that were both plain and not so at all.
"yes," mahler sighed out, affected greatly by the way she fought against her grief and the long wounds of pain that his snowflower had carried within her for far too long. "it is that vulnerability vich makes love vorth it."
it occurred to him that after the winter, phaedra would be a grown wolf. this idea unsettled and ungrounded mahler. he felt she was little more than a tall and sensitive child. he did not like the concept at all.
mahler shook out his ruff and carefully collected phaedra closer, if she allowed.
and this time he did not say anything, only allowed himself this static moment in time otherwise hurtling too fast.