Totoka River a bookshelf, lined with published love letters to the moon.

The Totoka bit at her scarred lips; and though the hurts have mended in their own time years ago, she still shivered at the phantom ache the waters tugged from her. Instead, she let Opalia’s inquiry snag her at her attentions, and the budding female slowly rose, then reclined to her hocks before answering. ”There are several forms of infestation, actually — mildew is more of a surface fungi, may be grey, white, and is prone to accumulate in moist environments. Mold, on ze other paw, may be grey or black fungi, but is a sign of a more serious infesting.”

Her hinds pudged their own attempts to accommodate for her heavy belly, leaving them pigeon-toed as she cast a fleeting glimpse back to the gona. ”Most younger foliage is suspectible to ze white mildew, which may have a ‘powdery’ to ze touch. Disfiguration of buds, leaves, and stems should come later in season when left untreated.” All the same, she tried to muster some sense of grace in feathering her thin tail about her heels.

”And, as for regular mold, which would be white mold, in common nature,” Aure continued, wobbling up onto all four, snowshoe paws before begging a little promenade down the rushing river’s flank, ”Buds and blossoms are prone to it, as are young seedlings. In short, it is important to evascrate any infected plants as soon as you notice. By the time there are lesions, it is already diseased.”

Met the silver of her own eyes as she finished with, ”It is not only plants which get this cottony plague — soil does, as well, and roots, I suspect. Wind and weather may carry spores of said mold, and that is usually how other vegetation gets infected, too. This is not unlike catching ze scent of another on ze breeze.” And with those final words, her starlit gaze seared right into where the ruddy lurker lingered.

All of this might have turned out to be a heartstopping, dramatic, cool moment — had the silver’s eyes not waxed to full-moon as she pawed the air before her mouth, now gasping in a mortified ’o’. Those argent eyes glanced away, a flush of shame surging into her self-appalled cheeks as she stuttered, ”O-of course, I-I’d never mean t-to compare one of my kind to f-fungi. Oh!—“ And with that, her fine head cast itself down as the blood beneath her skin smothered her senses. How could she have done such a thing?