Blackfoot Forest and the colors drift from you into me, and the wonder of the moment rescued me

tag for ref! absolutely no need to match length

phaedra took the day on feeling adventurous and set her intentions on mushrooming in the pinefirth, hiking up the skirts of trees in the hunt for matsutakes as a treat to surprise @Wylla. she showed a lot of solidarity for her mother, after all, being confined to the doktor's infirmary with nothing much to do, and the girl thought it would be a worthwhile hunt if her returns brought the woman joy or, better yet, restored the woman to her original condition entirely.

by midday her search had yet to yield the results she wanted; and being cognizant of darkness' blight on the successes of hunts for diurnal things -- certain flowers, for example -- phaedra could see her window of opportunity closing with the shut of day.

bitterly disappointed, but bulwarked against her refusal to give in to the universes' unfavorable coinflip, the girl elected to take her search someplace unfaded by nose fatigue, insofar as she could.

obliging her intuition, phaedra's new trajectory saw to her departure from the jade fern grove and conveyed her to a crescential forest that, not in recent memory, did she ever recall coming across.

there was a fine drizzle and with all the humidity her fur had seen better days, but at least the driving rain had relented. having sullenly endured the shower without shelter, phaedra was feeling sorry for herself; and she was nonetheless clean for a change. she shook out her legs one by one, casting water off herself.

the boscage was still damply glistening, and the air close to the forest floor clung to moisture -- embroidering scents everywhere with vivid detail. in a race against the sun, the little wolf redoubled her efforts to find something to regale her mother with, starting with a rotted-out log clad in moss.

after a while searching, the girl jettisoned her present cargo -- 'ptoo' -- escorting the morels away with an agitated scuff of her paw. she'd misidentified it as hen-of-the-wood, which wasn't what the nitpick in her wanted and thus, made it every inch unsatisfactory. 

nearly fed up with the fruitlessness of it all, phaedra laved her tongue against the bark of a tree, not finding the taste of mushroom much to her liking at all.