Sawtooth Spire maunon

a fresh new rabbitskin had been wrapped around samplings from his new pharmacy. mahler carried it beyond the jagged stones that wylla had once feared. at his age the mountain was daunting, but he knew he was needed in its reaches.
and so he climbed carefully, touched by the faint wending scent of phaedra. heda's own trail was clearer.
nostalgia filled the man as windholme's loud voice reached his ears. he stopped to look at the river and found that the girl's trail led along here.
up ahead, a golden wolf and the former rivenwood girl waited. the gargoyle saw their mouths moving. he approached politely, though his gaze was already searching to examine the boy. "hello. i am mahler. heda tells me you are caracal? she has explained vhat has happened. may i look?"