Noctisardor Bypass We're sunflowers in the rain

it was as if age had no pull upon wylla. they had both been scarred by the physical demands of their kind and their rank, but only he seemed to still suffer from some malaise that was no longer connected to sickness or old injury. it was the sort of thing again that could not be mended, a sadness that he could not commit in full to this fairy-ring of light and space and wylla, not if it would be
fear then, still lodged somewhere under his ribcage.
mahler thought he might capture his wife in the last moment, but her strong limb flexed and he was suddenly pelted, half-blind with snow. the man gave a bison's heavy snort and bulled after her, head down as he shook the white from his face and sought to grab for her though he could not quite see her direction.