Noctisardor Bypass the loxian gate

Druid laughed softly under her breath when Heda swore, though it was more about the face she made after the fact than the epithet itself. She didn’t really mind coarse language much, even if she hadn’t found much use for it herself yet.

Something jolted within her when Heda said, “It tastes like tree,” only with a lisp. Druid looked at her sharply, quickly realizing that she meant the sap now stuck to the corner of her mouth. The gray youth laughed again, a little emptily this time, having thought for the briefest moment her sister had somehow read her thoughts. They were so tightly-knit, Druid wouldn’t put it past her!

Alas, she only meant the syrupy substance oozing from the tree. Druid had noticed it before, though it had never occurred to her to taste it. Her tail waved to and fro as she stepped closer to sniff, though Heda’s review of it hardly tempted her to press her tongue to it.

Her kin’s words did stir a memory, faded and frayed at the edges now. Didn’t we have a big stick, when were littler? And we chewed on it and the insides tasted funny? She could hardly remember, though she felt certain nonetheless. Does it taste like that? she wondered, curious if Heda recollected.