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

How fortunate for Wylla that practically the entire pack's glut of children could speak it, then!

Alas, she wasn't interested in learning another language in its entire, or even for the simple pleasure of cursing in it. She merely wanted to show Mahler a tenderness she reserved for him, and him alone. Phaedra seemed to catch onto her scheme for a moment, causing her face to flush, but then the girl trailed off and dropped the thought. Maybe she hadn't picked up what Wylla was putting down and maybe she had—she wasn't about to ask.

Her daughter offered two different phrases. Ick leeb dick? It sounded preposterously like something a child might mutter under their breath to rouse a round of giggling in an elementary classroom. The side eye she fixed upon Phaedra then communicated her sincere doubt that that meant I love you at all. She was much quicker to believe the second phrase, and equally quick to latch onto it being a more prestigious and impressive way to say it.

See fur zen im shluf? That seemed far more likely to mean what she wanted to Wylla than lick my dick or whatever Phaedra said a minute ago.