Sawtooth Spire i'm ephemera, see my 'use by' date

morning after this!

"PAPAAAAAA!" phaedra belled for the third or fourth time into the morning air, growing more frustrated as she rousted from treeline, to garden, to furrowed forest paths leading eastward. "papaaaaaa, wanna do play hide n go seek also, but dhis is too hawd!"  she punctuated with a stamp of her foot, fixing her eyes firmly on the verdured treads upon which he often alit when late for post-breakfast playtime. "alle, alle, auch sind fwe!" she called out, then sat on the slope in wait with what she would consider immense patience (see: maybe thirty seconds tops) for the darkling face of her father to present itself.
after some moments, and growing annoyed by the greetings of whistling wheeooos of a gray jay and flutelike phrases of neighboring thrushes, she pivoted on her heel in a sulk and loped to the den which they were all "allegedly" napping in after elevenses (the only time she and thade were allowed to nurse anymore without being snapped at! it was a bunch of garbage, australia still got milk with breakfast and dinner! hot, smelly garbage!).
for some reason (grown ups always forgot to explain their reasons for bossing you around, so you had to remind them to with lots of why?, she learned) she was ordered by mama not to go out alone that morning, but since when did phaedra exist to fossilize in some humid den, bulging at the seams with occupants? since when was she ever a conformist, over and above that? if wylla wanted her daughter to stay inside, she probably needed to forbid being inside, first.
carefully stepping around the boys, phaedra towered over her mother’s unconscious face and stared unblinkingly at her. ”mama you wake?” she ventured in hushed tones, glancing over to the dark duo sleeping close by, making sure her voice hadn't stirred them. ”mama! isid you wake?” she urged with a slightly raised voice—to a clearly not awake mama—still leering creepily at @Wylla from on high in the dimness that swallowed the den.
her head was backlit by the mid-morning sun, probably causing some uncanny resemblance to an ethereal, aurelian-glowing cherub from a mother's perspective.
if that didn’t work she would have no choice but to resort to a hard paw-poke in the eye.