Sawtooth Spire i've heard about this frog, it's a very tiny frog, but it's also very special

as she was gossiping away to the lonely dandelion, clownfeet’s unmistakable figure suddenly appeared on a ridge and approached phaedra with a bouquet of the very same flowers. she audibly gasped, smiling and aglow with reverence as he entrusted her with the assortment he’d found. she didn’t even have words! thanks would be nice, but she was too distracted by the flowers for courtesy protocol. 
as he’d noticed her feet had grown (rather faster than the rest of her), she took note of his close departure from puberty into young adulthood. not that she could make sense of these things. ”dey-“ just as she was about to make mention of the bouquet's beauty (and talk over him), the klinge blustered a sneeze right in her face and the dandelions he’d endued her with scattered to the wind in a white tide, noping out of the way of this covid-19 liability. 
after a moment, phaedra pinched one eye open, hare-like ears airplaned. ”gesundheid …” she remarked flatly, repeating a phrase her father said to her any time she had the sneezes. 
looking down at her beheaded stems, she sighed a deep breath. spreading her paws, she let the dead spindles fall into the grass and clutched one preserved bloom carefully. ”bubble flowders don dalk back, buhhh …" she turned her head sidelong and closed her mouth around what she meant to say, opting instead for a simpler: "... would be good dey did.” cause i don’t really have anyone else to talk to about my feelings and the flowers are very good at keeping secrets. 
it was a very long winded confession and her impeded tongue was all bruised-knees from tripping over cumbersome words. "come do see me?"