Otatso Wetlands Break free and leave us in ruins

It was over as quick as it began. Stag uttered no sound, just a gulp of air, while Mahler backpedaled and openly gaped at her with shock rippling silently across his expression, from the drop of his lip as he spoke to a twitch of his whiskers. She stared back, hard and frigid.

That is what you want, she pronounced, forging ice into a thin blade now that Stag was free and safe behind her. Fool. She thought better of him, and had no words for him right this moment. Nevertheless, she trembled with adrenaline and the lingering fear that he could have died because of her, and it made her eyes burn with anguish.

Maybe Mahler did not want to drag her unwillingly back to Rivenwood, but all the same, he sought to chain her to his dream. No want of hers could ever earn his regard unless it aligned with his own—he made it clear by asking her to come back after she had told him she could not.

I told you I could not come back, yet here you are, ignoring that. You refuse to right the wrong you have wrought. I left Sagtannet because of how you treated me. Taikon's challenge was only that: a challenge from an insecure little man who was new to the pack and, apparently, struggled with authority. She could have weathered it, albeit indignantly, if only Mahler had supported her. But what was it he had said, instead?

You did tell me that you deserved better.

How can you even imagine I would wish to return to Rivenwood when you don't seem like you've changed at all? Are you truly content to minimize our hurt and our grief and our grievances, so long as you get what you want? What is the difference, then? She lifted her chin as though to stare down at him, despite the way he towered over her, emboldened by both cold disappointment and hormonal angst and loneliness to make him hear her this time. Stag was, of course, part of the package. Wylla did not love him the way Mahler seemed to think and had no intention of bedding down with him, but he was as good as a son to her, and she would not leave him behind, either.

I am done giving up things for someone who will not do the same for me. I loved you, Mahler, and I would have left my home for you in a heartbeat, but I think your ego is all that really matters to you. I mean everything to you, except when I ask you to do something, right? She tore her gaze away finally, wrinkled her muzzle in a snarl, and said, if you ever get over yourself, then we can talk. Even then, she wasn't sure how she could reverse all this. She'd wanted to be his wife, but all the times it would have mattered, he hadn't asked.

All the times he had asked were fraught with rage and misery for her, such that she could not accept without losing the last shred of self-respect she had.