Redhawk Caldera summer days wasting away

Seal mentioned the term “balm.” Frolic should’ve known what that meant, especially after spending so much time apprenticing with her father, but she drew a blank. Her curious gaze followed the older girl as she bounded away to collect the flowering plants.

When her friend returned, she began to grind the greens into a pulp with a pair of stones. Although Frolic admired Seal’s innovation, she suddenly wrinkled her swarthy muzzle.

I’m not eating that! she exclaimed, insisting, I’m allergic to anything green! Cue a dramatic pause. GUESS I’LL DIE.

Theatrically clutching at her thrapple—which happened to be her throat apple—Frolic made a choking noise and flopped over into the grass, where she rolled onto her striped back. She thrust all four stockinged feet into the air and let her head drop to one side, eyes closing and tongue lolling from her mouth as she grew deathly still.