Honeyed Pasture feel right

he was unsure how he had missed the thick circlet of brown around the other's throat; mahler stared at it as long as it jangled awkwardly around the pale neck of his companion, then drew his gaze back to the snowy face. perhaps that was why the owl had taken to attacking this wolf, a crusade to drive out the uncommon. 
keeping his analysis to himself, mahler shook his dappled muzzle. "mahler. grimnismal," he rejoined, motioning with his wide paw back the way he had come. there was no need for further details. the musiker passed his tongue across his muzzle and nodded toward the other man, as if to prompt him with the same question. in the next moment, the hard lilac stare was upon the sky again, searching for the owl with a curious expression.