Sleepy Fox Hollow träume sind zum träumen da

mahler's own auds cupped here and there to savour the babyish sounds. there was nothing quite so entreating and exhausting as the stage of infancy. maybe it felt this way because it passed so quickly into milk teeth and frequent escapes from a den that would not forever hold them. and once a child had been released into the world, many things might happen to spite their existence.
"you vill."
this age was sacred for one's ability to truly protect a small life. it would be the last time to do so once they began their ventures.
melancholia and fatherhood took a diverting walk together, bumping gently against the slope of phaedra's question. "i do," mahler answered simply with a tip of his muzzle to drink in the surrounding sights of the hollow. "i vonce lived here, vith your mother, in another time."
so it was a return of many things.
he thought of the lake.
he thought of river.
he thought of stigmata lying in a stone cairn, his final resting place overlaid by the stones that had fallen thereafter. he had his peace to make with old ghosts if he wanted them to keep from haunting his dreams.
but for now he would allow his kill-brother to wait.
"i like it for many reasons. but most of all i enjoy it because your mother is content here."