Nova Peak tränenfleck

it had been a fortnight since mahler had dragged himself back to the peak. wylla had taken all the leadership duties upon her small shoulders, and the gargoyle was ashamed that he had not been able to help her. due to her quick work, however, the man had avoided the blood-fever.
the tissue upon his neck was still tender, gently covered now, but any pulling would open the wound easily. the lacerations upon his face had faded to knots of blood in short ribbons of scarring. mahler shifted, teeth baring in a wince at the tug of toothmarks in his flank. "nur ein durcheinander," he groused to himself. stoneflower gaze turned now to the bit of outdoor sky he could see, tucked back as he was into the cavern's recesses. still grey with rain, mahler surmised, and with a sigh he let his muzzle fall across his forelegs, considering in grim silence the fight that had led to his current state.

Two failed hunts and one hardly successful one had Wylla in a disagreeable mood as she descended through the pines. From her jaws hung a mere pika. Not enough food to portion out, but the injured Eisen needed it more than anyone else in the pack, so she suppressed her desire to swallow it whole. It sucked to expend so much energy for practically nothing, but she managed to shake off the tension when she spotted the hollow where Mahler lay.

The rain was a drizzle that she hardly noticed anymore. Maybe this was just their lot on this new mountain: to be rained on incessantly. She didn't mind; it reminded her of her mother and the glade. Dropping from a fallen log, Wylla ducked her head into the darkness with a quiet growl to announce herself and dropped the pika there where Mahler might reach it without much stretching.

She wanted to grumble about the hare and the grouse that both evaded her, but instead she sprawled out at the mouth of his sick den and said, without warning, when you're up and about again, I'm going to pay the cliffs a visit. Make sure no one's skulking around there.

The eisen had just nodded off when wylla's disgruntled tones cut across his consciousness. mahler blinked, groping for the fuzzy outlines of her silhouette. the sweet smell of blood floated upward, but his hunger quelled itself for the moment. "i vish you vould not. but since i know you vill anyvay, i vill be able to handle your absence for sagtannet."
not for a moment did mahler think she would believe him. in the gloom he stretched out his forelegs toward the woman, hoping to brush her own with his seeking pads. "i am sorry you have had to do so much alone." it was her role in their land, he knew, one she had loyally fulfilled since her ascension to the leading rank. but it was through his impetuousness that he had landed himself a reliant invalid upon her, as if she had not carried him up several mountains already.

It’s my job, Wylla replied, referring to both. What sort of leader would she be if she allowed her partner to go and get injured defending the pack, only to turn a blind eye to the possibility that the threat would be back? And what sort of leader would she be if she slacked in his absence?

As for him being well enough to handle the pack while she was gone… only Mahler could say. Wylla didn’t know enough about injury and illness to argue. Can you walk enough to go up the mountain? is what she asked in lieu of telling him he wasn’t capable. Not only would it potentially be a strike to his masculinity–something she delighted in most days, but not while he was still hurt like this–but she had no desire to argue, either.

Arguing had brought only pain thus far. What did they look like? In case I find them there when I go.

it was not her task to go off and injure herself, but mahler saw the set of her jaw and was silent. there was nothing to be said; his fiery beloved could scorch all within her path when she felt as if her strength were questioned. including himself. wylla need prove nothing to him, but the gargoyle wondered if it was he she sought to impress, and not herself.
"no," mahler sighed in the next moment. there was nothing worthwhile in attempting to disprove his own educated guess; there would only be more pain and the shame of failure. 
and he felt the snivel of a wounded man in his head; lips thinned into a dismal line and he looked out toward the dripping grey horizon. "the voman who did this vas black as night. tall. colorless." a demon. "then there vas a skinny man vith grey fur, and a boy vith gold upon his back." 
mahler had no further details than this; secretly he hoped wylla might be impressed, even if it was silent. only then could he regain the bit of slight to himself that he had done with his admission he could, for the first time, not climb a mountain.

It was as much for his sake as for hers, but she wouldn’t breathe life into the thought. It remained unspoken between them, a promise of vengeance for his suffering. If pressed, Wylla would maintain that it was the best thing for Sagtannet to not tolerate the unseen movement of forces just beyond their borders. They hadn’t come this far to be caught unawares by another possible threat.

Unbeknownst to Wylla, the efforts she’d made to soften her question only made the whole thing worse for Mahler, who was forced to admit his shortcomings aloud because of her. She thought this was a kindness. She failed to realize his pride this time. Nor did he dwell on it; he went on to describe the culprits and she managed a thin smirk at the end.

I wouldn’t remember any of that if they were chewing on me, she supplied, which was true. Wylla wasn’t always an observant wolf to begin with, let alone when her life was on the line. It was impressive that Mahler managed to take stock of his opponents while fending them off. I’ll kill her if I see her, she vowed, which wasn’t true, but it wouldn’t stop her from trying.

"i know you vill." and he could not stop it, for in her small body, wylla carried all the force of a juggernaut. mahler allowed himself an inkling of pleasure at her remark. "i am unable to turn off the observant nature," he rejoined dryly, despite the ache all through his body. "and kill her, so long as you come back, vylla."
amid such things, mahler was reminded of the seasons to come, and his gaze wandered to the light beyond the cavern's lip. "soon they vill be able to go on the hunt," he said vaguely, collecting all the children of sagtannet into one statement. whatever their parentage, he suspected even marble and calcifer would find themselves out in the snow following pronghorn tracks, and was amused at the image.

So long as you come back. Wylla grimaced. She wasn’t one to think often or long about her own mortality, having always been quite afraid to die, even at her lowest point when she’d contemplated suicide for a minute or two. The thought of losing her life to another’s fangs was terrifying—but it wouldn’t happen, she told herself.

Mahler would never have returned in such a state without dishing out equal punishment. If she found anyone on the cliffs, she expected them to have two paws in the grave. There would be no contest, or so she thought.

Mahler coaxed her thoughts back to the mountain with mention of the cubs. She couldn’t hide the way her shoulders stiffened. Wylla looked forward to teaching Phaedra how to hunt and could even imagine their gilded daughter prowling in formation beside Marble and Calcifer, but his other daughters had no place in her idyllic image. If it was up to her, their ilk wouldn’t even get to sup at the same table.

Unfair, that. Ciri and Elke were not at fault for the circumstances they found themselves in, but she loathed their existence all the same, and made it known in a quiet voice. Maybe I’ll take Phaedra, Marble and Calcifer out to catch gophers in the fields, or to show them some tracks, she suggested, refusing to meet his gaze then, knowing he might be hurt by the deliberate exclusion of Nyx’s daughters.

the mere allusion to the girls that nyx had birthed sent a stony nature to assail wylla's profile. mahler saw it in the way she straightened to stiffness, the way that she excluded them even by name.
the gargoyle's mouth grew drawn and dour. it seemed always the hardness of her vibrant sunflower nature made itself known in blatant ways, and now at the expense of two daughters he adored.
"then i shall take elke, ciri, and astraeus elsevhere vhen i have recovered," mahler rejoined coolly, resenting the sharp-edged woman for her spoiling of his attempt at conversement. it passed, however; only hurt remained, and he intended to wipe the surface of his heart free. he would not deny them to her; he did in all else, but never before her face would he do such. even when it was so beloved. 
jaws split in a yawn he had not intended; he blinked and offered wylla a small smile, willing that their meet come to an end before the potential of more barbed words.

If he'd sought to make a barb of her own rejection of Nyx's children, then he'd succeeded. Instead of allowing that it was the mother's responsibility to teach their children the skills necessary to succeed in life, and recognizing that Nyx was also quite capable of showing her daughters how to follow tracks, he sought to punish Phaedra for Wylla's dismissal of the others by dedicating his time to them over her yet again. At least, that was Wylla's take on it.

Or, she icily retorted, you could put your eldest daughter first for once and be present for her first big hunt. It would mean the world to her and show her that you care about her as much as you do about them. Nyx is capable of teaching her kids and you can be present for their efforts after. Lord knows she does fuck all else around here, so she can make herself useful. Nyx had yet to even properly introduce her daughters to the pack, after all. Would he disagree that Nyx herself had made no effort, or would he blame Wylla for that? The Ostregas seemed perfectly content with their status as fringe members, from what little she bothered to know of them, and Wylla was not about to make the effort on their mother's behalf. Not to mention her disdain for the Ostrega and her jealousy, which made it impossible for her to treat Ciri or Elke with even a crumb of warmth.

As for Astraeus... She'd forgotten all about the misfit orphan. She hadn't seen him around the mountain in ages, and realized only then that she really hadn't cared. She made a mental note to look for him and make sure he was still alive (the writer has no idea when he left with Buzzard and company) at her next convenience.

She fixed him with a chilly, daring gaze, did not return the smile, and hoisted herself up and out of the den. He wouldn't see her again until after she visited Dragoncrest Cliffs.