Sleepy Fox Hollow einigung

memories of the hollow filled in its perimeters, its paths, its details. mahler took more easily to it than he had expected, for without the weight of leadership there was only a day of ritual. he woke. he drank. he kissed wylla and turned his warm gaze for phaedra. 
and then he set off in search of productive isolation.
mahler did not leave the hollow. he allowed its nestled land to expand in his mind, to drive back the seeping edges of guilt and grief.
he thought of stigmata more and more, and presently the gargyole stopped. his amethyst eyes searched in the direction of where his brother lay beneath a stone cairn. "warum musstest du sterben?" he muttered to no one at all.