Little Goat Mountain bewusstsein

wylla, love of his heart, scoured mahler so cleanly that his countenance was forced to close. as he had with andraste upon the cold and rocky earth, mahler retreated into himself as wylla assailed him with her unwarranted and unsolicited criticisms.
she had come to diaspora, shouted at him, teased him to the very marrow, and now she sought to tear down the flimsy justifications he had made for his ambitious planning.
the element of emotion had been removed from mahler's blueprints: he was able to think in terms of pure logic, and found himself aggravated as wylla placed back into his architecture the piece that had been deliberately missing.
she dared many things, and now the she-wolf dared to spoil for yet another confrontation, all the while rejecting the admission he had made and twisting her opinion of him.
and so mahler moved alongside wylla but grew distant, removed himself to a far-off place and let his features move into a torpid and aloof expression.
sequestered thus, he was free to remain without commentary upon her judgement of him, and when they had traveled far enough from the goat-peak to see the fringes of the hollow spreading sharply in the distance, mahler paused in his tracks and offered wylla a blank dip of his muzzle.
enough outbursts had been made today, and he was relieved to keep himself from another.
"it vas a pleasant outing, vylla," mahler offered in the sanitized, cordial tone he might suggest to an acquaintance. "i vill see you another time."
the general turned sharply then, heading off in an assured gait toward the communal lodging, and only when he was several paces away from wylla did a flicker of abject hurt flare to life in his lilac eyes.