Sawtooth Spire dear god: thanks, if you loved me the vegetables would be extinct

it was always a good day when you got your way.
when wylla slunk through the threshold and nudged phaedra further in, after having properly tore the asscheek out of stag's zen, the bairn sought her out with solicitious whimpers. she impatiently waited for her lifegiver to settle so she could glut herself.
squirming into the black tousled hair of wylla's stomach, she latched onto an engorged teat and indulged her insatiable appetite.
her little encounter with stag was long forgotten already, though the memory of his scent was now a safety pin in the quilt of her growing consciousness.