Barrow Fields the worst thing about prison was the dementors

lol love the office ref <3

springtime had come to the teekons, just ahead of mahler, he supposed. with the renewed budding of life came a greater variety of birdsong, the glowing bells of melting snow, the dull thuds ice breaking free across the surface of streams and creeks. and the man saw these things, and he was pleased that music had returned to the world.
the polychromatic beast trudged now through the snow of what would be a field when the white melted away under the warming sun, and he stood in its middle, sweeping the expanse for movement of prey or kith.
the cold lavender of the musiker's eyes settled on the figure of a wolf not far off. a mingling of graceful limbs and sculpted angles that proclaimed her as female, surely, though mahler would not be upset to find he was wrong. it was her gait that commanded the man's attention, dulcet in its elegance, and he watched her short-lived hunt. 
he fancied he could see a bit of gilt beneath the dark cinnamon of her coat; if a songnote lived, this was it. overjoyed behind the mien he kept so neutral, mahler was still. perhaps she would see him. and perhaps not; he was in plain view of her now, some twenty feet away, but her focus might not allow for distraction.