Sawtooth Spire when everything was broken, the devil hit his second stride

she didn't need much convincing to stay put. once wylla had parted her side for the morass, phaedra slumped onto her belly and draped her chin over her clammy, perspiring pawpads. her eyelids menaced her focus on the conscious realm, anchored by the ballast of hypohydration.
"mama, do n  le a m eee" she called out, tone etiolated, for nought except the dirt she mouthed at feebly.
wylla returned without delay, clutching watered moss that dribbled off her chin and plinked against phaedra's nose.
"please," the girl shook her head furiously, "drink," a heartsickening sob reamed out from her chest, shoulders shuddering.
unbeknownst to wylla, her daughter had deprived herself of water for nearly an entire week, and the amber water she made in her sleep was the reserves of her body's last.

it was ironic. as a toddler to well-nigh drown in the water, and as a child, to well-nigh die for the lack of it.

please stop fighting it, mother's dreamvoice breathed against her ear.

the princess's breath soughed out helpless and wistful. unclenching misted eyes, she lipped at the viridian clump bidden for her mouth, allowing at first only cool dribbles to fall against her tongue.
she smacked her chops, and answered her body's urgency by allowing a full sup to be culverted down her yearning throat. the taste was earthborn and faintly familiar. "mehr" she insisted in spite of herself, too muzzy to realize which language her tongue laboured with.