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

The exchange between Phaedra and the snail, while wholly one-sided, was one of the most wholesome things Wylla had ever witnessed. Despite wincing when her daughter mispronounced 'will' with Mahler's strange inflection, it was charming to watch a child trying converse with a creature that Wylla wasn't positive even had a brain. She snorted a low chuckle when Phaedra compared the snail's excretions to Thade's—not an inaccurate assessment—and outright laughed when she tapped its shell, causing it to withdraw.

Yes, you scared it, she said when Phaedra shot a questioning look her way. You're much, much bigger than that snail. Imagine if a gigantic foot came down from the sky and bopped you on the back. Although it was meant to be ridiculous for the sake of Phaedra's imagination, Wylla bit back the urge to shudder at the notion of such enormous creatures existing. To be a snail would be tragic, indeed.

I think that's it's den, yeah, she agreed, although she really had no idea. A snail wasn't so different from a hermit crab in her mind, and hermit crabs hoisted their homes around on their back, so maybe snails lived inside their shell as well. Phaedra offered the poor tormented creature a soft apology before splashing through the water, prompting Wylla to resume her walk with her eyes peeled for other interesting sights.

Alas, there were none. They reached the rushing river that was Windholme in short order, and Wylla was quick to draw Phaedra's attention to the smooth, glistening pebbles lining the banks with a crafty croon of, bet you can't find a better treasure here than me!