Nova Peak If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above

Well, la dee fuckin' da, said Wylla under her breath, ignoring Phaedra's insistence that she trade her swamp for eating a slug. Okay, so what if flowers came up from the ground? Maybe their blossoms only became special after they sprouted and lifted from the soil, then what? What did Phaedra know?! More than Wylla, of course, who balked when her daughter revealed that the flowers would make her shit her brains out if she ate them. Fine, then, that's the last time I try to contribute to your garden, you urchin! Delivered humorously, of course, rather than the harsher and more serious insults she'd once flung at a very young Tiercel.

She very nearly snorted at the way Phaedra agreed to help. She was glad her daughter seemed less withdrawn here, no doubt in part due to the mysterious friend that climbed on her and made her fur smell like food. Maybe Star was right. Maybe being friends with a prey animal wasn't the worst thing in the world... though Wylla certainly still believed it betrayed a proclivity for mental illness to be friends with one's food, she dared not think ill of her own once-cherubic daughter, let alone speak it aloud.

Well, she said, flopping down on the wet, marshy ground with a squelch. She'd regret that later when the water seeped up through her coat. Oh well. I was hoping you could teach me some of your secret words, she shared. To surprise your papa, you see. Also so she could understand a little of what the two muttered between themselves, but that was beside the point.