Sawtooth Spire zweiter teil

their journey together could not have come at a better time. phaedra was happy to get away from rivenwood and its infanticipating population. it deeply confused and disturbed her that one day someone could be normal and just two blinks later, look the better part of a partridge hen. like damn.

it may safely be said, on the remote possibility that their thronged condition was transmissible, phaedra was favoring a social distancing protocol.

very, very socially distanced.

they set off after convening at the marches of the pass, whereupon she set the tone for their voyage with concern for his health. every cough or sniffle sowed questions such as are you sure you’re up for it? and are you sure you’re sure? and in particular, have you been around those sick ladies? whilst stealing covert glances to his flank.

until eventually the mountains rose up to meet them and her industrious mind set to busying itself with awe rather than his expectorations.
 
yes, suddenly she was too cool to linger with dad, electing instead to capriole through the scenery and tumble through every strange smell that hit her face. she only fell back in stride with mahler when he recalled her there.

amidst their ascent of the mountain she felt keenly as if her soul was gathering up lost heirlooms, mnemnonics purposefully dropped so that she may always find her way home. at times it felt like she was blazing a trail through a dream. 

other times, she was bounding about with somesuch exclamations like hey! i remember that goat! ... despite having no recollection of ever actually seeing a goat; much less that one specifically.
 
once they came upon the river, however, a very real echo rebounded on her memory. but she somehow couldn’t place the sensation of frisson as excitement or as dread. as if someone had set a slow and steady match beneath her center, deep in the pit of her stomach. 

“oh,” phaedra breathed in a tremulous sigh. “i kind of remember this,” she said, 
“as well as any dream, i suppose …” 
the rushing of the water bilged every sense. 
made her feel so small.

where her heart usually was, a trapped hummingbird ensued to flit hither and thither, trying to find a window through which it could exit. such largesse of feeling confounded her, and the girl looked hesitant at her father. “it’s— it’s too fast to cross. right?”