Snowforest Taiga what's left of our eden's garden to grow?

phaedra's mind wasn't presently anchored to complete consciousness, and even when it was, she didn't know this girl! the child's mother had never introduced her to the pack as far as the mondstein could recall, and besides that, she'd never seen the mother antecedent to their departure from the spire's stronghold, either.
the pack (her parents and stag, really) had helped bring her up not because she was sagtannet's only remaining heir apparent, but because her presence was impressed upon them and she implicated herself in their daily affairs. they had no choice, really. biological imperative did the rest.
as for the grulla cub and her sister, phaedra'd never laid eyes on them before, not until the entire pack had mustered station and several unfamiliar faces turned out. 

ciri's parents' decision to remain frugal with their public appearances (hence their failure to coalesce into the pack) was not the girl's fault. it was unsurprising that she would be vulnerable to cobwebby heartstrings when her upbringing thus far was of a wilfully hermetic nature. who could blame her for her social gaucherie?

it didnt matter, phaedra was bitter. bitter about leaving home, bitter about thade, and now she had only wanted one thing: to sleep after days of deprivation—she'd argue back that ciri was the meanie for stirring her from the sweet taste of it—and now this kid was tinselly-eyed and lachrymose over her grown-up words.
phaedra groaned and flopped on her side. she'd warned her to go back to her mother (very nicely, she thought), ciri refused; what else was she meant to do but lash out from her depth of misery like baby potty mouth cthulhu? she just wanted to sleep! not play, not socialize. sleep. 

if getting that need met entailed rejecting ciri's desperation for friendship, very well then. phaedra cozied up to the flowers and muttered, "because i'm sleepy and you're 'noying me. dats why."