Sleepy Fox Hollow when you wake, you're bargaining

mahler snorted his bemusement at phaedra's antics. it did seem very like her: "— tulip!" he snorted in pale imitation of wylla. in years, even months past, mahler would have felt his mind lurch toward the almost inevitable contemplation of the failures that had made his daughter cling so tightly to wildlife and the unchangeable.
but today's mahler only watched the slow satisfaction bloom onto wylla's features. he had long thought her beautiful, despite whatever scoff his wife might utter to hear that aloud, but he had not seen her as content as she seemed now.
another direct reaction to his thoughts — not now, not now.
no ruination for this time.
"it reminded me too much of diaspora to remain so close to vhere stigmata died."
mahler felt his breath tightening.
"there vas an earthquake after his passing. it drove us here. after such losses i vas ready to go anyvhere else."
mahler gazed at the fall of ice, then back to wylla, resolute in his vulnerability.