Sawtooth Spire unzureichend

not far, he vowed as they put the glade behind them, breaking through the ferns to walk the grass depressed from his path there.
alongside him she felt apparitional, considered herself among those who had gone, remembered yet forgotten. phaedra's mouth set in an unbidden, nerveless twist until she emerged from a wistful revery to realize that her papa had asked her a question. she blinked restlessly at the ground and glanced at the forward churning of his ashlar legs, chasing away bothersome thoughts lingering in her head. 
"alle sor-t-den," she murmured, unsure of herself. that was the sad sum of her imagination. a mind like a drain and her pneuma circled it. any word that coursed her tongue felt stilted and made her mouth feel like a gin trap, jaws catching each one before it could spring forward. 
a flustered tear leaked from her eye. she tried again. 'and you smell like blossoms'—"blossoms, ich auch denke," she blurted. chewing her cheek, she thrummed with seeking and then breathed a little sigh before continueing, "blumen, die gude ... uhh ... memries ... bringen?" she was painfully lacking confidence in translating what stag had told her about putting love and good energy into the things they planted in her garden. so much had happened since that day, and myriad intrusive thoughts imposed upon her attempt. phaedra stared fatuously at her feet. 
hadn't she once been so self-assured? bright? she'd repressed all of herself to please others. suppressed every ounce so no one would leave. but in doing so it seemed she had completely fled from herself.