Sawtooth Spire zweiter teil

leggy phaedra, off in a flash after a nip of her teeth to his pelt. mahler laughed, and this time it thankfully did not descend into a coughing fit. what the girl had in largesse of speed, he believed was a balance against his own stamina from his time of running to and fro the mountains.
what he remembered of diaspora lay beneath his skin, and he pulled it up as easily as he had years past.
mahler was not displeased to find that he was incorrect, that phaedra led him up and up until his step became ponderous and his heavier bulk slowed. yet he had not yet reached the limit of himself; as the snowpeak loomed ahead, the gargoyle veered sidelong onto another path.
he remembered the intricacy of sagtannet, though earliest memories had begun to pale. his foot found one crag, and then another; he climbed powerfully, heavy, leonine.
at last he stood panting, ankle-deep in the snow of the summit.
lavender eyes cast around for phaedra as he gasped a laugh. "du bist der sieger!" the shadowpriest called, the cough at last rising to coyly paw at him.
he had given a good competition, mahler supposed.