Whitebark Stream honey

a voice has her pause, maw still on the plant, until wide eyes find the familiar face of Aphrodite. she shakes her head no, pulling back as Aphrodite continues to elaborate. her maw works almost comically a moment, adapting to the taste she can not decide if she likes or not. she blinks as the taste fades, and asks, "how? it just leaves." she's had a stomach ache before, after snacking on something nameless she'd found in the vicinity of the den, and hated every minute of it. "do all leaves help tummies?" she continues after a moment, wondering if that might account for her interest in chewing the grasses that grow by the riverbank.