Broken Boulder endless me, endlessly

he led. she followed. both were silent. it was a specific torture for mahler, who discovered that as quiet fell over the hunting pair like a soft pall, his thoughts creased and snarled into a thousand memories of hard yellow eyes staring at him from the face that resembled phaedra, resembled thade.
wylla plagued him in a thousand regards. mahler was not ready to untie the clasp of the hurts takiyok had rent in his heart: she had always been trusted, and he had been willing to listen —
bitter salt flooded his mouth. taikon was marked for fatal censure, and that was all he allowed himself to think. movement ahead. the shadowpriest stayed his gait until he felt that sequoia too had seen the framework of the wounded ruminant, limping between the tightknit trees. 
he moved to the right, noiseless; his mind jeered that she had already found someone to wipe mahler and his weakness from the surface of her heart. from her body.