Sawtooth Spire zweiter teil

relief stole across her features, sinking into the willowy lines of her body. she couldn’t think of any reason for the anxiety, only that her mind’s eye was discerning of an unconscious fear, something translating itself fluently into wakened moments. 

still, phaedra was unable to suppress a smile at the mention of her childhood friend. “well, he's got a talent for it. it's very windy,” — making a wide berth of the water’s riotous edge — “ähm. ...not sure how i feel about that actually…” she went on to say with a wry face, glancing to the cold looking water before springing up from the bank in a frisky curvet after mahler. 

her apprehension aside, the river wasn't quite equal to the task of dulling her at-the-minute glimmer. it was a concern soon put behind her, and she returned to her mirth, bounding about captain broodypants as they made their way; pausing here to smell a flower, darting there to chase a squirrel into the canopying trees. 
the only thing that rendered the girl motionless was her father's idle musing about others claiming their mountain—! 
in the quiet words of the virgin mary, come again? 
they could do that? 
the audacity of anyone to even consider it! 

affronting, indeed.

"if they try, i'll come sort them out," phaedra huffed; the idea of having to seek permission to visit her birthplace stoked life into the coals of her firebrand nature. she huffed again, then hurried along to walk side-by-side with the erudite for the breadth of his lessons. 

she might have remembered a time long ago (but then, maybe not so long, after all) when she was round with earlier youth, moments measured in late spring days and giggled-together deer names. alas the memory was only a vague sensation of deja vu, and easily shaken off after a brief lull in attention.

after awhile of putting their noses to work, she was poking at the discarded swath of antler velvet when mahler drew her attention to the snow-capped summit. she cast an eye over his ambition, then met his taunt with an unfurling grin of daring, a laughed: "i think a better question is: can you handle being left behind?" 

playbowing, tail feathering her hocks, she quickly made an effort to pull whatever tuft of inkspun fur she could reach before nearly tripping over her own feet during the getaway. 
"lagme ente!"