Noctisardor Bypass We're sunflowers in the rain

the blood had not come back.
the woman who called herself a healer had given him a treatment that mahler had never seen before. it turned his world to a brighter sheen; it made him unsteady upon his paws. but the coughing was kept at bay, and along with it, several of the paining aches that had plagued his flesh.
wylla's was not a thought he had entertained in some time. the gargoyle was prepared to die. he had no illusion that the sickness had been eradicated. the medicine had soothed his symptoms. and perhaps mahler was far too pragmatic.
he forgot it when he saw wylla across the river. he himself had been on a slower patrol of rivenwood. but mahler had seen her running through the trees. and now as she lifted her head he made himself visible.
from this distance he knew it was her but could not see wylla's expression. it was just as well — he did not want her to see the want and the anguish stamped upon his brow.