Noctisardor Bypass tell me lies, tell me painted truths

mahler froze for a moment. a look into laurel's eyes showed him that she was not yet present. "the pharmacy," he managed to sequoia.
to whom had laurel been speaking? surely not him. mahler was not sure what to make of her words. it was clear to his eyes that aside from the physical wounding of her body, the woman had suffered in another ways. and he did not know how to conceptualize this either.
despite his own determination, mahler recalled vividly the warning that laurel had given, the one he had not heeded. and he had not listened because he had not wanted to place all of rivenwood in a war.
but it had come to them all the same.
"it vas her nephew, merrick. he killed before. he came to finish the last of his family." mahler did not know how else to explain, for such things were not easily described or contemplated by those without such bloodthirsty madness.
you failed you failed you failed; his mind cursed him with the mantra of it as the three of them half-walked, half-staggered to his larder of medicine.
he did not allow himself to think of the boy. "sequoia," he said heavily when they had set laurel against a tree, "you must help me this time."
he staggered among the shelves, blinking heavily to keep himself awake. "clean her neck, please," he asked, sitting down heavily to chew comfrey and birch bolus.