Sleepy Fox Hollow all my sins need holy water

hope and delight were lacewing vines of greenery around the heart of the man. mahler had found his peace at long last, and there was not a single day that he regretted having taken the hollow to inhabit. 
his was a marrowdeep contentment, something unfelt by many, and he would never take such sensations for granted.
the woman on their borders was aquene, an herbalist of mereo who had advised her in detail of his midwifery knowledge. "it has been a long vhile," he said in gruff warmth as he came to stand before her, lavender eyes knowing.
her scent now belonged to epoch.