Ankyra Sound das klagende lied

@Wylla and/or @Lycaon, if you've got time :)

past the mountains he had traveled, their jagged teeth still holding winter-ice, the song of spring dulled by their thick stone walls. and so onward he pressed, following the tang of salt in the cold air. mahler knew at the end of it would be the vast expanse of brine he knew as the sea, where its roar was never dulled and seabirds cried in the skies above, a veritable symphony of clashing sounds, and for the first time since arriving to the teekon, the man's heart relaxed its bitterness.
the steep fall of cliffs, the trembling red trees; mahler marveled at the play of ocean winds through their branches, the whistle of it across the rock — he was dazzled, but allowed himself only a few moments of wonder before steeling his countenance once again. wolves. butted up against the scent of them, mahler backed from the trees and stood some feet away. beyond, to the left, and to the right, the ocean's melody hearkened, but curiosity also welled.