Sawtooth Spire i'm bound by the feeling that's so easy to fake

she giggled and corkscrewed bouncily as the flowers rained down on her and around her, her jaws lurching through the air to try and catch one before it hit the ground. most of them landed in grass, on her shoulders, or on her crown. no matter, phaedra stirred her fur up until she was puffed up like the dandelions strewing the soil. "yow secred word ids lächeln. wanna hindt?" she arched her brows, lips pursed.

"dey do fasd fow me." she muttered dimly, reflecting on the effort she'd spent pursuing them in relentless apollonian circles through the alpine glade. 
upon being informed that snakes were good for gardens, she smiled laconically at his correct use of hase, a word she'd taught him on a different day, but phaedra's expression was burdened with heaviness of heart. "doesn' madder, when mama an' papa bringed us here, had da leave my garden der." her ears lopped pitifully.