Sawtooth Spire erbärmlich

if one was to live upon a mountain, one must be used to the feel of a forest.
by turns carrying her, mahler led little @Phaedra upon a short woodland tour, one that culminated with him sitting down to observe the various fauna. he expected her to do the same, focusing his interest upon a shivering young buck that stood stock-still and staring at the predator and his child.
mahler was not hungry now; his interest was piqued as could only be for a killer. presently he yawned, stretched, and cast lavender eyes about for phaedra, reveling in the greenery of the spring-warmed place.

outings were treasured delights for the lamb, and today she was especially excited when her father plied her from the den with promises of adventure. thade was asleep, along with the rest of the household. they tiptoed out; she had to be hushed as she could barely contain her laughter.
howevermuch the little perle adored mama, one-on-one time with her papa made her heart flutter like an angel’s pinion; their bond was ironclad, and a new joy was moulded each time they made a discovery together—most usually in the woodlot close by home. 

in these times, papa had explained mama could not join them as often what with the foundling present. he’d used a word, amme; wet-nurse, to justify her cloven attentions. mama had to give her milk to the child that Was Not Her Sibling. that was that on that.
possibly milk-kinship would have developed, but for her family’s reception of him phaedra only felt resentment leave a scorch mark on her soul. i’m bad, she often whispered inside herself. if papa knew how she felt about the boy, if he knew what childish wickedness she disclosed to the girl inside her, his love for her would go away (she was sure of it), and the thought of that wrought such agony in her heart she held it all inside like a breath that turns your face from normal to blue to purple.

today, it was a sunshiny forenoon, and giggles feathered up from her breast once mahler set his daughter loose to thread her own course through their sylvan courtyard. she flit about with glee, pointing out anything she could put a word to. ”lods ov dwees,” the bairn noted, her nose turning over leaves and rocks as they (she) made a recce of the greenwood. "an lods ov flowders. dhese awe papa flowders." she gossiped to the world, seemingly heartened by a bush of lilacs blooming in full amongst the undergrowth. 

she startled when an insect sprung from the bush. she drew back, watching as it jumped to a tree. ”oh! ids jusd a cwicked!” she informed her papa, in case he was unaware of such insects. she continued to sniff the ground, humming a quiet melody to herself when two large paws joined her path.
she looked up and reported with laughter; ”papabaw's god big feed!” she nipped at his toes, seeking to engage him in play, but his cursory glances towards something in the wood abruptly set her interest burning. 
a spring buck stood in the bottleneck of the thicket, riveting at the pair. phaedra drew in a sharp breath, her steps whispering against the leaves as she moved backwards 'til her shoulders were wedged securely between her father’s forelegs. he did not seem alarmed. she was very alarmed. 
the velveteen spikes protruding from its head made her eyes grow wide. ”wys on ids head?” she murmured.

phaedra wondered at all and everything, and mahler found that her curiosity often sparked his own renewed interest. had he ever looked so closely at the nodding head of a daffodil? had he truly enjoyed the quiet trickling of brooks, the thick moss upon the moist wood of a long-fallen tree? anything that the dark pastel of her eyes beheld was transformed into a wondrous thing for mahler.
her babbles and scampering and running commentary upon all that they saw kept a smile curved upon the shadowpriest's mouth, and now he delivered a reassuring lap to the paling fluff between her round ears.
"geweih," came the hushed baritone of the voice that buoyed up from the cavern of his chest behind phaedra. "antlers. they vill get bigger and bigger. he vill use them to fight other deer when he too is larger."
there were enough of these fellows in the land for mahler to consider marking this one, sparing him to see what sort of stag he would become. a gift for phaedra and for thade, something to fell during their first year's hunts.
by the time that the snows returned to the land, mahler was unsure that his affrighted mausebär would be so small as to fit just as she was in his embrace. and so he held her a bit more closely, nudged her again, felt the tooth-scour of time's passing.
"vould you like to give him a name?"

captured by the buck, who ruminated on some cud while keeping completely bone idle as he trespassed on the predators’ stares, the bairn scarcely stirred. some childish fear that it could be wrought all glamour out of delicate dandelions with pappi that would be strewn by just a sigh of her breath made her reluctant to take her eyes away. ”anlewrl.” she murmured, whist. her gaze described the velvet of each tine decorating his brow with intrigue. ”geweih.” phaedra murmured again, this time in their secret speech, under a trace breath and unknown by her, without any clumsy gaffe of her tongue. ”dhey lwook like fussy sdicks.”  
informed that this buck’s antlers would only get bigger, she gawped at him, then listened with captivation, looking troubled when told of their way of life. ”wy do dhey fighd fow?” she worried, looking to him and then back again to the deer fated for bloodlet. it made her think of her father; if he had antlers, his would be tall as trees! but he would also have to fight, and that thought went through the flesh of her heart like a javelin. she was happy he did not have them, then. nuzzling her crown against his ruff as he held her close, she departed to some faraway place of her imagination. 

”vould you like to give him a name?”

he yoked her awareness together with his nudge and she mused wondrously at the deer, racking (lul) her mind for a name apt for this doomed gazingstock. she knew lots of words, some better than others, but she never knew she possessed the ability to name things too. mamas did that, not phaedras. ”maybe hid mama alweady give him one?” she rejoined, looking up at the proud chin of her papabär. after all, didn't her mama give her her name? or was it bestowed upon her by a deer? 
the young stag hesitated backwards, then strode boldly towards the wolf and his cub, then back again, looking every each way as if he didn’t trust his own intuition. he stomped his cleft hoof. perhaps he thought he was enwreathed in huntsmen.
to phaedra, she imagined he was introducing himself to her, and with that thought a name manifested in her mind. 
”siegew.” she told her father assuredly, smilingly. 

mahler was charmed by how well the old words found its way to phaedra's little maw. it was a small victory for him, then, to have handed that down as a bit of legacy for his children. her impediment too was a singular delight to the shadowpriest, for he trusted she would eventually grow into better speech. easy then, to find precious the first sentences to word the unending curiosity of a small child.
"they fight for a vife, or many vives," mahler answered, thinking too late of the fact that his own status with wylla might not have engendered the word yet in phaedra's lexicon. therefore he swept on, intending to provide her small ears with more intriguing images than the contemplation of wedlock.
mahler's attention was captured by the bravery of the delicate animal. it could have very well been stupidity that drove the basic machinations behind the buck's brow. "maybe he could have two names. the name his mutter gave him, and vone for you." he looked down now at the blurred flaxenlocks of her head, returning her sunglow grin.
"vhat a good name, phaedra. vhere did you hear it?"

she didn’t face him as he described what the fighting was about, too transported by her imagination, but the question of “vife” was nonetheless on the tip of her tongue, a thimbleberry ripe to pluck. he expertly eluded what would give rise to complicated questions, so that berry might stay on its vine—for now.  
whatever a vife was, they had to have been mightily treasured to make the antlered deer spend their time growing armament for battle with one other, all because of them.
she agreed with the proposal that he get two names. that sounded fair. phaedra had lots of names too! when asked about the origins of her choice, however; ”uuuum…” she cast her mind back and fished for the answer he sought, a rosette of bashfulness flushing her cheeks. "is id a bad wowd?” she whispered first.
either way, she answered him once a recent memory came forth in her word recall. ”wen we playing dag? you wewe being funny, papa, you caughd me an made me lost, ad go ‘papa isd siegew!’" she bellowed, then remembered they had to be quiet, and toned it back down. "so was dhinkiing, hid name could be siegew, so other deez awnd siegew. and he can get hid vvv ... vifes.” phaedra looked up at her father now, feeling shy and hiding her burning face behind a lifted shoulder. 

the young deer was no match for his daughter's boisterous voice, and flinched backward a handful of steps. but mahler had only ears for the small mouse piping under his breastbone. he listened quite attentively, though he was not quite able to discern what siegew meant. and as phaedra faded in childish embarassment, mahler tried lovingly to translate that particular set of syllables.
"it does not sound bad. and your reasoning is very sound. he does need vives." she had not yet asked what that was, and so he felt free to forge ahead with his knowledge. "if he vas a voman deer, he vould not have antlers. and he vould look for a husband instead."

her self-consciousness was ameliorated by mahler's validation, and she adjusted herself rightly so. ”he need vives." phaedra repeated, sagely nodding without a clue in the world as to what a vife or vive was. "alv dem!” she added.
”if he vas a voman deer, he vould not have antlers. and he vould look for a husband instead.” 
”da voman deez awe vife, and anlewrl deez are husbad?” she watched the spring buck, marveling again at the prongs on his head. the child thought on her father’s words for a long moment, trying to unravel some of this information privately before she spoke again. she did have … a few pertinent questions that her curiosity was presently tholing. 
as she opened her mouth to speak them into existence, the buck stamped his hoof again at the pair, snorted and grunted, then disappeared through a spinous thicket. phaedra jumped from her papa’s embrace and gasped. ”siegew wan off papa!” thx captain obvious. she stared towards the thicket for a long while, waiting for him to come back. he wouldn’t. phaedra visibly moped, turning back to mahler with a dramatic sigh. ”di’nd ged do dell him i am phaedwa.” 

"yes, exactly," mahler grunted, pleased by his little daughter's swift, inquisitive mind. there would be time for nuance later, he supposed; she had grasped the premise of what he meant to say and that was well enough for him. the young animal soon decamped toward a shelter against the man and his curious spawn; mahler hid a smile at her theatrical pout. "i am sure you vill see him another time. maybe then sieger's —" for the gargoyle's aged mind had only just clicked into awareness "— antlers vill be much larger. he vill be very proud of them."
he wondered what sort of hobbies she might yet entertain, and paused a moment before asking, "do you know vhat a doctor is, phaedra?" mahler had never made any secret of his varied pharmics and their knowledge, but now he wondered if in his pawmarks he might lead a second healer to the fore.

once again, he was there to soothe her dismay. she stared into the now-still clearing of the forest that the stag recently occupied, the slip of a smile wreathing her mouth. ”i bed dhey gwow high as da dwees!” she announced, peering up at the canopy of trees above and feeling ever so confident in her sieger. 
in truth, phaedra would probably never be able to tell sieger apart from any other mature stag, but it was fare for her imagination and she tightly clutched this hope as precious crown jewels in the palm of her mind.  
before long, mahler presented her with a new word. doctor. she pursed her lips in close thought. had she ever heard of a doctor? she'd been saved by one, more than once at that, but she'd never known the word. ”no …” she volunteered, loping out of her father’s embrace to sniff some tree litter. ”doc’dow, papa?” she looked up, a questioning look passed across her face as she turned back to him. ”wat dad is?” 

father too, snuffled grandly at whatever his little pearl had discovered in the debris that carpeted their walk. "a doctor is a somevone who takes care of others vhen they are sick or hurt." in his own survey, he discovered a flow of amber droplets cascading gummily down the fragrant bark of a pine.
"they use plants that help the sick or the hurt to get better," the gargoyle went on, lifting his muzzle toward the blood of the tree, and chuffing so that his little daughter might look up and see. every moment could be a lesson, and phaedra was quite capable. it was her curiosity, mahler believed, always indulged and encouraged to the synaptic clasp of her mind. 
"a doctor can also help a mother vith her new babies," he commented, careful not to stray too far down that path in defense of scientific education. wylla perhaps would not appreciate such notions and questioning.

she nosed over an elm leaf and a skink that had been hiding beneath it froze long enough for phaedra to nonsensically trill, ”oh! guden dag, mr. wigglesnug!” with a breathy giggle, right before it slithered away to find a rock to hide under instead—one that couldn’t be so easily capsized by tiny nebnoses. 
as papa explained the role that a doctor took, she was firstly bored. at this point in her life, she had at most shook hands with empathy, so triaging the sick and wounded did not pique her interests at the minute ”oh.” she said distractedly, sorting through some bushes for that mr. wigglesnug. 
her father’s chuff had her quickly backing out of the boskage with twigs and pine needles that had fallen from above twined round her fur, and a suspicious blue-speckled eggshell shard stuck to her nose. she’d found a mockingbird’s nest and helped herself to the contents of it. who didn’t love a poached egg? 
the lamb shook out of her fur and went to see what her papa had discovered whilst discoursing about the use of plants to help the unwell. when his scarred muzzle indicated to something on the tree, she canvassed its bark and had to balance on her hindlegs and place her paws on it to meet him at (mostly) eye-level. amber globules, like magma crawling towards a civilization of ants, bled down the tree. she blinked, then cast a queer look to mahler.
”ids’a dwee sick?” it didn’t evoke any mournfulness in her expression, only prick-eared inquisitiveness that also bade she touched the tacky, astrigent sap with the tip of her nose. naturally, it came away with a viscous attachment to her prow. she licked her nose, curious as ever ... and her mouth was suddenly filled with an acrid turpentine-taste. "ew! blegh! bleh! id dasdes like shid." she uttered the profanity without thinking. oops. all her mind could think was about the treacly gunk on her tongue. she snorted, giving her head a hard enough shake to dizzy her backwards.
phaedra fell on her bum, some slobber and foam frothing her gums as the taste slightly nauseated her. the sap by now wreathed her face and chest, leaving her detailedly sticky. the lifeblood of the tree was an effective paste, that was for sure—it definitely adhered her to the foliage she’d fallen into, as well as to the twigs from earlier, giving her the impression of arraying a handcrafted wip ghillie suit. 
”sdicky. grody.” she stated as her final verdict, unaware of how ridiculous she looked. she brought a paw to her nose, and it came away sticky now as well. cross-eyed, she watched as the pines secretion drooped in a rope between her face and paw. um, does the wilderness happen to have a cvs nearby? we finna need some alcohol-based hand sanitizer or nail polish remover before mom gets a load of this. she placed her foot back on the ground, heedless to the fact that she would be wearing spring’s latest footwear fashion: leaves and sticks by adidas. 
"a doctor can also help a mother vith her new babies,” papa had her attention again. she slid smoothly—albeit slightly hindered by the leaf stuck to her foot, she noticed with a glare—towards her father, weaving through his forelegs to position herself between them and peer up at his whiskery chin. ”hooooow?” she pried cheekily. 

"phaedra," mahler intoned sternly at her use of more adult vernacular, but in the next moment he had turned away to hide the amused twitch of his chin. he watched with growing mirth as she fell victim to the viscous clutches of the amber goo, clearing his throat in order to clear away the beginnings of a teasing guffaw. phaedra, most outspoken darling.
she had not evinced interest in his long-winded explanation until now; mahler grinned down at his sticky-smeared spawn and swiped his tongue over her small features once before answering. "sometimes a mother needs help to get the babies out of her body into the vorld," mahler grunted meanderingly. there were only two ways a woman might be saved at that point, she or her children. a midwife must knew when to focus upon each party, and when to surrender one of them to the whims of the natural world.
but there was no word for this phaedra might comprehend, and so he turned back to the first question. "your papa has helped lots of mothers," mahler revealed, thinking of the names he still recalled in his sleep these days. such a fresh glut of remembrance these days, and he was not altogether sure he enjoyed such things.
"have you ever seen a snake, phaedra?" the shadowpriest inquired next, thinking amusedly of how badly elfie had taken his butchering of that hapless serpent.

hearing her name so sternly pronounced she turned her head to look at her father, having already forgotten she’d even invaded the realm of “adult language” (very poorly executed invasion, at that). ”mahlew.” she said baldly, blinking at him. she’d heard her mother call him that many times, and saw nothing wrong with referring to him like mama did. of course, mama had also inadvertently painted her bairn an entire rainbow of four letter words. 
her sticky situation was not becoming any less sticky, though papa was incredibly brave, she thought, for licking the absinthian, y u c k y tree glop from her forest tailored coat. she arched her scrawny back against his ministrations, then started to scuff her paw against the ground to work the adhered leaf free, finding that she was only collecting more foliage in doing so. giving in with a huff, she was listening to her father’s response to her question with both ears but maybe a small army of braincells. what had that topic been again? 
o right-o, les bébés, mamas, et cetera. phaedra’s ears strained to their lengths and she screwed her eyes up at him as he revealed to her, very insouciant, that babies came from mothers.
wat
absolutely ludicrous. phaedra burst out giggling, gave him a smug “ur fuckin with me” look.
”your papa has helped lots of mothers” his opinionated daughter nodded at this. ”ya i do dadt, nod ads muchly prolbbly.” she remarked casually as she pulled the leaf stuck to her foot off with her teeth, dry heaving at the sap that came off with it while recalling all the times when wylla had said how helpful she was. for instance, phaedra was helpful for not eating her own vomit after too many berries (in her defense, they taste the same going up as they do going down, so why be wasteful?).
she also remembered one moontime when she was blethering with the owl that lived in their trees, and mother remarked how it’d really help me out if you went to sleep instead of hooting back at the damn owls. among other very helpful things she’d done. that was just one mother, though. helping lots sounded like a tough row to hoe. a whole lotta hoes to row.
”papa, you gwood ad helpin’. “ she earnestly praised him, despite getting the whole concept entirely twisted. it sounded really hard, because it was really hard for her to be helpful when she wanted to be the opposite. either way, the birds and the bees talk may have to wait a few …. aeons. 
at mention of snake, she canted her head. ”seen a sneak? ja! well i do da sneak up on thade and mama and make den go ‘ah!!’! has you papa?” she pressed in turn, sidling against the pillars of his legs with a sweeping tail. 

too surprised by her blatant use of his name to respond initially, mahler puzzled out why she had addressed him in such a way. surely she had gotten it from wylla, though it was not altogether seemly to blame the woman for her use of his title. all of sagtannet knew him by such a name, and phaedra was too much of a quickwit not to suss out what the word meant.
"thank you," mahler grunted in regards to her praise, pleased that she had heard at least a little of what had been said. her laughter, charming as always, provoked a chuckle of his own. "no, 'snake'," he repeated. "that is 'sneak,' and you are very good at it."
"a snake is a wriggly thing, like a lizard, but vithout legs. he crawls upon his belly, and his voice sounds like 'sss, sss.'" though he felt altogether silly for imitating a serpent, he wished to impress its sound upon phaedra, a gift which could be unwrapped for further lessons.
"we vill look for one," he declared, casting the searchglow of his gaze across the leaf litter. putting himself to the task, mahler began to pace over the loam, satisified that his gaze as yet had not been abated by his years. and when a little coiled thing was invariably unearthed, he grinned at its tiny menacing jaws and glanced to phaedra. "a snake. but do not touch. it vill bite you."

"snakes?" her voice chittered.
prancing primly over the tree spilth, she thrid through the boscage, looking for more skinks.
as mahler's stoneprism gaze read the ground for the spoor of this snake (otherwise known as caution ramen), phaedra crashed out of the brake, dancing all the while on his heels with a litany of fricative "ssssth ssssssth!" noises as he continued on his task. 
eyes closed as she strutted at his foreleg, when he came to a halt, she ploughed into the brawn of his elbow and fell back on her haunches with an ooomf!
"a snake," her papa intoned. she hoicked off her bottom and was at his side at once, following his eyes to the small, coiled creature. the moondipt child had just about reached out to touch it—" but do not touch. it vill bite you." she quickly withdrew her paw and rustled her ears. "id look likes pile of—" her uncouth observation was cut short when the serpent hissed and a gleeful gasp leapt from her lungs. "id did da ssssth sound! papa!" she drew a hair closer to the snake and it recoiled into his scaly brown whirlpool, darted out and flicked its forked tongue at the two. 
phaedra was fascinated, and blew a raspberry in response, a tinkling giggle to ensue. "whys he do dat fow?" she asked mahler, leaning against his leg. 

delighted to witness her interaction with this little serpent, mahler crouched close and found that he was equally relaxed to see that she listened. phaedra retracted her limb and pored over the scaly thing, and his ear twitched at her question. "vell," and here he paused, musing.
he did not know the answer, for he had never seen snakes so much as something to be avoided for the rotbite, or to be hunted in times of famine. and so the man mused quietly to himself, not minding if phaedra had cast him beneath her eye again.
"perhaps that is how he measures us, and if ve scare him, he hisses." again a sibilant demonstration; he grinned at her and gestured to the uncoiling body. "i do not think he is scared now, however."
slithering child of scaled lords; he kissed the top of his mousebear's head and straightened. "shall ve go home, phaedra?"

archiving <3

she waited for an immediate answer, as papa seemed to always have one ready on his tongue. however, he seemed stumped by her question, which made her all the more so inquisitive about the quiddities of this tendrillar creature.
in the meantime, she offered more raspberries to the serpent. "thbptttttttt!" she poked her tongue out, spitting her own brand of venom (see: saliva) at it's spade-shaped head. it flinched back again into its coil. 
when mahler presented her his supposition, she listened intently and was satisfied, constellating his wisdom and storing it in her growing repertoire of knowledge about the life around them.
as the snake unwound itself, she her eyes glimmed with wonder. "ids looooong!" she said, following its departure at a distance with hopping leaps until recalled by mahler. "i scareded hims away wid my ssssthing papa!" phaedra announced with devious razzmatazz, leaning into the kiss by reaching upwards on her tippy-toes.
she nodded wordlessly at his question, slithering throughout his legs and hissing all the while as they followed the path home.