Sleepy Fox Hollow Folk star

a nod. likewise with takiyok, mahler swept his gaze sidelong to gauge wylla. odd having her there; he had not greeted the borders with her before. it was usually the winterwhite.
reminded of his massive role within their failure at companionship, mahler felt a stony quease grip his stomach; between such recollections and the ethereal little spice to wylla's scent
— how long had she known? why had she said nothing? —
the gargoyle had grown rather distracted. "rest and eat. i vill set you a task to complete vhen you you have done both." a day of rest and a full belly. he would give no footsoldier less. they bore diaspora, and mahler wished to be fair to them, even in the face of wolven tradition. it would make no sense to starve or bully brook further, not to his inner clockwork. she was already the weakest of them, and so long as she remained that way, a drain. give her food and a place to sleep, let herself work up.
such was the point of their hardy group, after all.