Sawtooth Spire you just wanna know those peanut butter vibes

midway to her destination, phaedra felt herself nudged over and then scruffed by the in-house doktor (he did come in handy, for the child’s frequent visits to his post were beginning to bear out rumors of diablerie amongst the bloodline. what a scandal! child borne of wylla—forged maverick?! such petty gossip …)
with a soft huff, she assumed the roly-poly position of tucking all extremities inwards and hung from his jowls with a dim look made comical by the mild inflammation swelling her snout and cheeks. 
stationed upon the mossy slab, she sprawled and fussed, and then felt the soothing analgesic of the cool moss pour from her belly, to her toes. she stilled, and let her chin rest on the rock vert. the coolness cupped her face lovingly in its palms and mitigated the throbbing sensation, but she still gnashed on her tongue where the stings still pulsed and irritated.
it did not occur to her that she could suckle from the moss as she suckled from her mother’s breast; it would be an ungainly feat anyway, maneuvering her gums against the moss with little relief to show for it. 
enjoying the coolness underbelly, she did not budge, but an afflicted complaint puttered from her throat as she wrestled her tongue against the roof of her mouth.