Sawtooth Spire We were talking for a minute, then some guy tried to cut in

the moonmilk child didn’t need any convincing. her legs were moving before her eyes were fully open, causing her to trip over her feet, which were in disagreement about who commanded which stride. ”ohf!” nothing says up and at’m! quite like the summons of gravity. 
phaedra peeled her face off the ground, scrambled up, and burst forth between her mother’s legs and into the light of day. she stretched and yawned off the dust of sleep collected on the mantle of her lids, splaying her feet and arching her back into the warmth of the sun.
”phaedwa an mamma going do a wawk?” she pleaded, restlessly hopeful on the petals of her feet.
“we're going to go to windholme today,” her mother replied. windholme? a curious tilt of phaedra’s head said it all. they were going somewhere, that much she gleaned, and danced gleefully with a bright smile fastened to her face. the girl giggled when her mother’s tail freckled her cheeks with tickles. ”mama sdop id!” 
”can you say wiiiindhoooolme?” rallying a steadying breath, phaedra strained on her toe-tips—mama and papa implored her to say a lot of things, but she would have to wrestle with her tongue over this one. ”viiiiiid…” she concentrated, adopting her father’s impediment at the first try. she furrowed her white brow, then cheerfully exclaimed: ”widhoe!” 
yup, sounded just like mama had said it. ”phaedwa an mamma awe going do widhoe! dhade sdill sleeping dhough.” she started to blether, looking very seriously up at her mother and through her legs at the den. ”sdayed up doo lade, huh mama.” she nodded, wandering off without waiting for an answer. too bad, so sad.