Whitebark Stream verpassen

mahler, of course, returned to this place. 
he stood looking at the water only a moment, before he began to resolutely search for any trace of iana's scent. to know that she alone had stood without children, and had wanted to be a mother; why did she not choose another?
but it was not another iana had wanted.
it was surely understandable, then, why she had left duskfire, but mahler was not assured she was forever gone. and so he looked, calling here and there, pausing once more alongside the last site of her most recent treatment she had given him. 
as if by irony, the cough rose in his throat, rattling and harsh.

She heard the rugged coughing, echoing through the pale trees and above the hum of running water.

Ciri began toward the sound at once, curious and concerned for the source. Along the riverbank she trailed, raven ears pricked and eyes bright, until surprise swam in her dark features at the sight of her father.

"Papa!" Her pace quickened, little paws bringing her swiftly to his flank where she whined softly and reached to poke her nose gently with worry to his ribs, "what's wrong?

ciri;
poor golden girl, filled with worry;
her voice, carried to his ear even as the coughing went on.
at last, at last, it ended; mahler slumped heavily to his granite hindquarters, unable to look upon the face of his daughter, surely stricken as her voice was. "vonce a cold. now a cough that still comes. but do not vorry. i sought remedies von anderen ärzten."
metal in the back of his throat as he spoke.

This time, she did not allow any prior awkwardness to set distance between them. Ciri stepped in close with a soft gasp, offering herself to be leaned on and eager to provide support. Her father slumped back, his backside swift to the ground as the coughing fit continued, and she pressed herself firmly to him for her own comfort as well as his.

Mahler tried to assure her, but her concern remained. She was no medic, had never had the patience or memory for potions like her sister once did, yet the sight of her father who withered beneath the strain of his lungs struck fear to the heart of her.

"They haven't-" she stalled, and reached hesitantly to plant the most delicate of kisses to the tufted charcoal of the gargoyle's cheek, "are they... helping? Is there anything I can do?"

it had grown easier, the lie, even if ciri did not believe him. the telling of it over and over soothed something in him, comforting him with the notion that this time with his loved ones would not be riddled with their agony over this thing he could not control.
"they are, they are. the other day i ran for quite some time vithout coughing and vas able to hunt. i think i have taxed myself only, ciri," he assured, returning her kiss and gathering himself up. "i am looking for somevone, from duskfire glacier. and i am keeping my eyes open for a mountain lion," he said directly and seriously. "stay vith me a time."

She quieted, though her eyes were wide and glassy with emotion as she drew back to look upon her father. When she'd found him at the riverbank those weeks ago, Ciri had thought he seemed to have aged considerably, compared to the Mahler who'd visited her on Moonspear with Winter's approach. Time had changed them both in so many ways; she was grown now, taller and leaner, no longer with the body of a child. She'd convinced herself that perhaps he'd always seemed this frail, for the saw the world very differently now than before.

His assurance did little to soften her worry, but Ciri bit back the voice of concern as the gargoyle pulled himself upright and carried on with a new topic. He didn't want to talk about it, clearly, and since she'd been unwilling to dicuss her time in Brokilon she did not challenge his decision. Instead she moved in alongside him again, as close as he would allow, eager to support despite her slight stature.

"Who are you looking for?" The swallow asked softly, curious, though she was on edge - preparing herself for another coughing fit. "Do you think the lion might've got them?"

You are the lion cub of Sagtannet, said her mother's voice, echoed in her thoughts; the swallow bit back the memory before it could conjure a golden face in her mind's eye.

"a voman named iana. she is the beta of duskfire glacier," mahler explained, grateful for the change in discourse, even if ciri did not believe him. and she did not; he could see it truly as dawnlight, in her mannerisms and the way that she kept herself close.
he was an ailing, aged man —
he kissed her forehead.
"i do not know. i am hoping that she left of her own accord, for other reasons." up he came, and the gargoyle began to move slowly toward the nearby stand of reddish trees.

Fading <3

Iana, he told her, who was Beta of a pack called Duskfire Glacier. It was not known to Ciri, so careful of others in her wanderings that she oftentimes veered away to avoid interaction with strangers. But despite her introverted way if life, she was a curious creature. She listened intently to what Mahler had to say and leaned in, cat-like, as he reached to plant a kiss to her brow.

She smiled for her Papa, bright and encouraging, and was content to search alongside him for a time. It meant she could enjoy his company as well as watch closely for any further ailment he might attempt to hide from her.