Nova Peak foundling-bird

the peak here had been edged in snowfeel since the wolves of sagtannet had arrived, and mahler had come to take it as a sign of harsh snows to come. with the sea surely already turned to ice beyond the sight of their eyes, it would send frost-rimed storms across the top of the contested cliffside, and both eisen had not yet recovered for a large hunt.
his own was slowed; whatever the musiker managed to gather was stuffed into deep larders. he knew the salt, however cold, provided its own bounty; he had learned this in his time at grimnismal, which both tormented and amused him to think upon now.
mama
at first he did not think he had heard the tones correctly; some odd echo of another sound bouncing oddly from the mountainside, mahler decided. but it was his responsibility to investigate, as well as his intrigue. long strides of his heavy limbs beneath the shifting darkness of his coat carried the gruff man in that direction — he paused when his trail crossed that of wylla.
pace quickened; mahler cantered through the foliage where the ashdove had gone, and found her
a charcoal-dark boy beneath a gradient of dust, all sharp angles and little cries and wylla! —
the boy at her breast and something audible in her throat. "thade," mahler scarce whispered, voice cracking at the edges and fraying into nothing as he numbly swept forward and on and on and on,
until he was around and about them, drawing in the solidity of thade and still disbelieving while his throat grew silent and his eyes muted with sudden and unassailable tears.