Sun Mote Copse down to the river

In that moment the only thing Weejay's attention was on, were the little buds of white that poked between soft fronds of moss. It held her attention entire: she did not even see Elfie out of the corner of her eyes, upturning fresh soil for his own source of amusement.

Disappointed (but not begrudging) that her father did not know, Weejay hovered over the moss until it seemed her eye was resting exactly on one gentle stalk of milkwhite petals; she took in everything she could about this flower; how it sprung from the moss, how many leaves it had (none - but tendrils it had in spades), and how healthy it seemed compared to its peers. "I'll call this one moon-moss, cause the mossflower looks like a little moon. Have you used this moss in particular before, Daddy?"