Lion Head Mesa break me off a piece of that… fancy feast

It’s called a spooder, Frolic jested playfully, though before she could say anything else, Inji indicated she wanted to try something.

The next thing she knew, the coyote was jamming a wad of sticky gossamer up her nostril. It actually hurt, as the tissue there was quite tender, but beyond a brief wince, Frolic kept up a brave face. She held as still as she could.

When Inji confessed she didn’t know much of anything about healing, Frolic wriggled her nose—well, the ball of webbing felt secure, at least—and insisted, You’re doing great, sweetie, the pet name her parents sometimes employed slipping mindlessly off her tongue.