Whitebark Stream honey

rain pummeled through the canopy, drenching the earth for the third time that day. the girl remained in the vicinity of the rendezvous, as promised, nosing through the plants that edged the clearing. her tai lashed behind her even as she became drenched once again; she'd decided the rain was just another thing to love. there were no repercussions to getting wet -- should she become too cold, it was simply back to the den and into her mother's warm embrace. 

she'd found something especially interesting among the weeds and ferns; a sharp-scented plant whose smell warranted her carefully mouthing the thing, chewing lightly and tasting something she could best describe as cold, in the form of a flavour. 

@Aphrodite