Bearclaw Valley Can't Take Me Home

Milk breath.
She exhales, and breathes it back in- reassured. 
More milk breath.
She savoured the taste of her own breath, until all of a sudden, there came a flood of warm air, making her splay her toes kittenishly in delight, though her gaping mouth opened wide to realize that this breath wasn’t milk breath at all.

Not that she knew what it smelled like, but it certainly wasn’t milk. So many scents and flavours all at once caused the child to stiffen in surprise, before she reached blindly with grappling paws for her father’s muzzle so she might smell it again.