Firefly Ravine baby did a bad, bad thing

mother, she said, and mahler was transported briefly to a hazy remembrance of a dark grey she-wolf looming over him, a smile wreathing her muzzle. mutter was what she had said. he repeated it aloud for isleña, charmed by the memory that she had brought to his mind.
"mutter," he said to her, translating it gently into his own tongue. quietly elated, mahler paused to look at a stone half-covered by snow. "stein," he offered, glancing into her seaglass eyes.