Sleepy Fox Hollow träume sind zum träumen da

she descended from the foothills accompanied by an air of nervousness. it bristled from her body like porcupine spines. 

smoke should have billowed from her ears in light of all the extra thinking she was doing of late. what would they be like, these new siblings? will they look like her? or dark like her parents. like thade.

thade.

i should have made this my priority, she shamed herself. now they will not know me as their sister. i will be a stranger in my own family. more than ever...

once her feet found the hollow, phaedra sought @Mahler first. and once he was found, she sat quietly by his side and let the silence between them be what it would be for a handful of moments. was he displeased that she had not come sooner to congratulate them, to meet her tiny brothers or sisters, or maybe both—maybe both! 

he would not voice any displeasure because he was still the father she knew and the father she knew would not do this thing. then it  would be worse for him to feel it, but not say it. her energy took on the form of a voiceless apology. phaedra swallowed audibly and let the warm rabbit in her mouth fall at his feet. she wished it for her mother but had been remiss in hunting for him also. she would let him decide.

"am i a sister again?" she asked, watching him from the corners of her eyes; afraid for a reply of the affirmative as well as the possibility of denial. 

it is time to move on. she felt teethtips worry the edges of her soul.

mahler sat outside the great log where wylla had made her mosscovered bower. 
now that he did not helm a great pack, he saw no reason for endless patrols. the four of them had settled some time ago, though his ear still caught the shiftings and squeaks of newborns within their mother's embrace.
mahler had decided to trust that phaedra would descend from the expanse of sagtannet and was rewarded with the knowingness of this trust enforced. 
his snowflower had come belatedly but he did not blame her, and neither did wylla he suspected. they had both come to expect her retience and her long-blown absences, for she was never truly gone, only traveling with herself, a nomad of spirit.
the meal would be one he gave to his wife. he had begun to restock the old larders and was thankful for his own ability.
she settled near. his lips curved with pleasure.
"two brothers and a sister."
how would she react to find that her parents had been so disgustingly prolific? 
mahler too thought of thade, and how radiant this moment could not more be to have had all of them together, if even for a time.

not one brother, but two, and a sister! phaedra’s tail stirred, though a serpent of fear coiled in her belly. that first foray into sisterhood had been nothing short of troubled, so much so that it didn’t bear thinking about now and she shook her head to be rid of lingering ghosts, determination further clarified by her present company. 

that was a conversation she could set aside forever. 
 
images of her parents' baby-making never came along to scourge the shire that was her mental wellness. thank god, thank the stars, thank fuck for that. those two could enjoy a lack of review when it came to their marital études for all future time, with pleasure.
 
“i can’t wait to meet them,” phaedra said with commitment, turning to face her father now that it was clear no hard feelings were had over her delay. she did her best to politely feign disinterest in any newborn noises coming from within, in case her mother wasn’t up for visitors yet — betrayed only occasionally by the flick of her ears. 

budging up closer to him, she said, “first, tell me how you’ve been?” 

it heartened her to see him more upbeat, if not for his own good than because the touch-and-go-ness of things often drove her to melancholia rivaling that of a teenage girl.

“do you like it here?” phaedra asked, gazing about the quiet glade. her mind’s eye need not do any daubing to see the beauty; spring prettied everything.  

maybe this place was more congenial to a doktor's soul and that was why he and ma never joined her higher in the mountains. luckily, her social conscience suffered from it only somewhat.

mahler's own auds cupped here and there to savour the babyish sounds. there was nothing quite so entreating and exhausting as the stage of infancy. maybe it felt this way because it passed so quickly into milk teeth and frequent escapes from a den that would not forever hold them. and once a child had been released into the world, many things might happen to spite their existence.
"you vill."
this age was sacred for one's ability to truly protect a small life. it would be the last time to do so once they began their ventures.
melancholia and fatherhood took a diverting walk together, bumping gently against the slope of phaedra's question. "i do," mahler answered simply with a tip of his muzzle to drink in the surrounding sights of the hollow. "i vonce lived here, vith your mother, in another time."
so it was a return of many things.
he thought of the lake.
he thought of river.
he thought of stigmata lying in a stone cairn, his final resting place overlaid by the stones that had fallen thereafter. he had his peace to make with old ghosts if he wanted them to keep from haunting his dreams.
but for now he would allow his kill-brother to wait.
"i like it for many reasons. but most of all i enjoy it because your mother is content here."

“you're growing sappy,” she said with a friendly-natured laugh. so it seemed that happy wife, happy life was an apt maxim. 

she did not suspect all that rested heavily on his mind. 

“i'm going to the big meadow over the mountains soon. any herb requests?” 

their small family had left the bypass abruptly with little time to muster the chattels of mahler's apothecary. if there was any peculiar plant he had need of, she would take it upon herself to retrieve — or cull — it. 

a gesture of her intention to return, also.

"yarrow and pinesap," he grunted. phaedra would know them. mahler wanted swifyly to go with her, but he could not consider leaving wylla and the newborns alone so soon. it would be some time before he would be able to take such treks. but it would come.
on a whim the gargoyle reached to press her forehead with his lips, clearing his throat roughly. had she not only just called him sappy? and the snowflower was correct. each day her father grew more sentimental.
"i feared you vould not vant to leave the bypass," he revealed in a stark jut of breath. but she had come after all, phaedra was here now.
they could rebuild.

“yarrow and pinesap,” she repeated in a dutiful manner and made a mental note to herself. yarrow was easy. pinesap would be a source of frustration, but she would bring him what he asked for.

he bussed her on the forehead and tension visibly leached from her shoulders. her father was an arrant teuton so the gesture was appreciated in full by phaedra, who knew he wasn't often stirred to such sentiments. though his ensuing confession gave her a little start of surprise. 

“what, and give you and ma a moment of peace? doesn't sound like me,” she smiled at him, shuffling closer to brush his shoulder. ever his girl, filial affection flared in her heart and she let her cheek rest against his arm, soaking in the attention. soon she would have to share him again and she didn't have the excuse of girlhood to act like a monster. 

or the inclination, really.

it was good, this. he settled against phaedra and trained his eyes out over their nearest horizon. as always he was unsure of what to say and so opted, also always, to say nothing, lest the moment be perforated and burned ragged before he had a chance to enjoy it.
but eventually mahler found the words. he did not change his pose or shift, he only sighed in contentment. "are you happy up in sagtannet, phaedra? i mean — settled. fulfilled."
a heavy question for an introspective girl.
or perhaps it would have been for another who was not his eloquent daughter.

like father, like daughter; she felt that words between them might always be difficult. was it a product of her wont to fade in and out of society? heaven knows that not even this welcome state of serenity would suffice to domesticate her. 

“sure, i’m— fulfilled…” phaedra answered, ensconcing herself in the vague feeling that she may well be lying. her toes fidgeted with the soil.

after a beat, but before he might say anything else, she meekly said: “is happiness the same thing as fulfillment, i wonder?”

mahler hummed. "for me those things have alvays been interchangeable. i do not see how they vould not be. it means i am settled. and vhen i am settled, i am happy." he wondered if it was the same for phaedra.
her introspection reminded him of his own. "vhen the little vones are old enough to travel, perhaps you could show them your favorite places in sagtannet. they should learn to love it also."
this was their home, but moreover for the gargoyle, it belonged to them.