Sawtooth Spire We were talking for a minute, then some guy tried to cut in

Come on, then, Wylla said, poking her head into her den to survey the inhabitants. @Phaedra and Thade were there, of course, and whoever had chosen to serve as their babysitter for the day was still there as well. Her son was peacefully dozing for once rather than gnawing on everyone's ankles, so she decided to let him lie and prodded at Phaedra with a chilly nose instead, hoping to rouse her daughter for a walk.

We're going to go to Windholme today, she shared, emerging into the chilly spring sunlight and leaning forward in a limber stretch, hindquarters high in the air and tail frisking enticingly right at face height for Phaedra. Can you say Wiiiindhoooolme?

the moonmilk child didn’t need any convincing. her legs were moving before her eyes were fully open, causing her to trip over her feet, which were in disagreement about who commanded which stride. ”ohf!” nothing says up and at’m! quite like the summons of gravity. 
phaedra peeled her face off the ground, scrambled up, and burst forth between her mother’s legs and into the light of day. she stretched and yawned off the dust of sleep collected on the mantle of her lids, splaying her feet and arching her back into the warmth of the sun.
”phaedwa an mamma going do a wawk?” she pleaded, restlessly hopeful on the petals of her feet.
“we're going to go to windholme today,” her mother replied. windholme? a curious tilt of phaedra’s head said it all. they were going somewhere, that much she gleaned, and danced gleefully with a bright smile fastened to her face. the girl giggled when her mother’s tail freckled her cheeks with tickles. ”mama sdop id!” 
”can you say wiiiindhoooolme?” rallying a steadying breath, phaedra strained on her toe-tips—mama and papa implored her to say a lot of things, but she would have to wrestle with her tongue over this one. ”viiiiiid…” she concentrated, adopting her father’s impediment at the first try. she furrowed her white brow, then cheerfully exclaimed: ”widhoe!” 
yup, sounded just like mama had said it. ”phaedwa an mamma awe going do widhoe! dhade sdill sleeping dhough.” she started to blether, looking very seriously up at her mother and through her legs at the den. ”sdayed up doo lade, huh mama.” she nodded, wandering off without waiting for an answer. too bad, so sad.

Wylla often marvelled at how different Phaedra was from Tiercel. It was unfair to compare the two, but she'd be lying if she hadn't expected another complete pain in the ass for a daughter. That wasn't to say she was letting Phaedra off the hook, for the pale girl was bound to challenge her in completely novel ways, but it was nice to not have a toddler talking back about every little thing. Phaedra was, in comparison, an absolute delight.

And no one had informed Wylla that delightful children often made the worst teenagers imagineable.

It was a good thing Phaedra was so focused on saying Windholme, else she might've caught the flash of irritation that sprung across Wylla's face when she very nearly pulled a Mahler. Ain't no child of Wylla's gonna talk like some mini-ass Dracula. But then Phaedra corrected herself and even Wylla had to smile. Yes, Widhoe, very good! she praised. That was the other difference between Phaedra and Thade, and the wayward Tiercel. Wylla had nothing but criticism for her first daughter. This time around, she was trying to be a litttle more forthcoming with praise, taking cues from Mahler as needed. So far it seemed to be working, although it would be awfully big-headed of her to take all the credit for Phaedra's demeanour.

(She took credit for it.)

The question was obviously rhetorical, for Phaedra was off with a sagely nod, but Wylla answered anyway even as she trailed after her milk-white child. Yes, Thade stayed up too late playing with the ghosts, she said, and naughty children who don't go to sleep don't get to go on field trips. She'd take Thade later. The kid was kind of a layabout anyway. She wouldn't be surprised if he grew up to be a night owl. They walked for some minute or so before Wylla chanced to spot a snail, arisen early from hibernation and still out from the night before, crawling alongside a puddle. Oh Phaaae-draaah, she singsonged, turning toward the puddle, do you know what that is?

"ve doing do windwooooooe!!" mini-ass dracula cheered, already plowing towards the frostbound river in goosestep (and heading in the completely wrong direction), feeling appreciably encouraged by her mama's praise enough to repeat the sentence as she marched to the beat of her own drum.
"yes, thade stayed up too late playing with the ghosts," hol' up. phaedra nearly tripped hearing that her brother had been holding secret meets with ... huh. her ears tuned into the rest of mama's remark about her naughty brother (old news), but she wasn't really listening. the first part alone made her gasp under her breath. 
"widh ghosds?" she whispered to herself. already the girl had printed a mental receipt of the tea wylla had spilled to her, for the later purposes of thuggishly approaching thade to terrorize him until he agreed to introduce her to his new playmates. they were in a social famine, people! and he was carousing with, what were they called again? goats? she'd have to remember that.  
while phaedra coped with the quagmire of jealousy turning her stomach, she suddenly heard her mother sing her name with that wheedling inflexion that always worked to stir up her curiosity. "WHA ISD???" she blurted, whipping her head around to seek her mother out, just about pretzeling her entire body in the rush to see what treasure mama had unearthed. 
scroungy paws skidded her to a clumsy crash against the hindquarters of her mother, but that didn't stop the child; she squeezed underneath wylla's backleg and fit herself between the woman's forelegs. peering down, she spotted first the whorling shell. "mama. ids jusda wock." she relayed, po-faced; this didn't look much different from the pebbles in their forest brooks. 
she kept her eyes on this rock, natheless, and drew a sharp intake of breath when the "rock" inched forward. "holy shid idsa movin' wock!" she said, the mangled expletive slipping without any twinges of conscience—she'd heard wylla say that four-letter-word so many times, it was soldered to her brainpan and was unfortunately bound to depart from her mouth sometime. better here and now in the presence of the coarser wylla than her family-friendly mouthed father, even though she had no idea what it meant or that saying the word around her father would entail implications, probably.
phaedra sank to her belly, shimmying closer to the puddle. she extended her nose to sniff the creature, but only gleaned earthy notes. nothing that correlated with any creepy-crawlies she'd been acquainted with (it was a very short list).
"mama! wook! whadisd DAT?" she pressed, eyes wide as the snail retracted and wobbled its protruding tentacles, to say nothing of the oooey-gooey body or the silvery trail it left behind. "so gwos ... cooooooool! wi'id bide?" moppelchen looked to her mother for feedback, looking between the snail and wylla's face with barely-containable patience.

It never got old watching the play of emotions between brother and sister. Wylla had been Tiercel's only meaningful company growing up, or so she told herself—Lusca and Singra were certainly nice to have around, but decidedly not as good as mother dearest—so watching two cubs the same age constantly reacting to what the other had was hilarious. She nearly snorted when Phaedra did a mental double take at the mention of ghosts, as if Thade had something amazing that she needed right now.

She did chortle out loud when the kid folded her wiry body back on itself in her haste to turn and rush over to the snail, and practically guffawed when Phaedra swore. Yeah, okay, maybe she should put a stop to that before Mahler ripped her a new one about his daughter using naughty words, but kids swearing was the funniest thing about them. Plus, treating words as forbidden only lent them a tempting power. Better to treat them as commonplace, in her opinion.

Phaedra was practically prancing around the snail by now, spouting questions faster than Wylla could conjure answers. It was only two questions, but. Still. A snail, Wylla answered the first, and to the second, she could only shrug. I've never touched one because yeah... super gross. They also weren't all that common by the seaside, at least not this variety. Something about the salt, probably. Why don't you ask it?

"an snell," she whispered in childish awe, unable to draw her gaze away long enough to notice her mother's shrug or indifference towards the mollusc. she then broke into a snorting giggle. "da sduff comin oud ids budt look likes thadey's snod when he go 'achooo!' " phaedra's belly jiggled with a peripheral chuckle at the images she conjured up in her imagination.
leaning low, the chld whispered-shouted (causing the snail to flinch) "HALLO VILL YOU BE BIDING ME DODAY?" demonstrating by clicking her teeth around air. she tilted her ear and waited patiently. no answer came. maybe its voice was too small for them to hear?
whatever the cost, feeling emboldened (death or glory etc) she extended her leg, resembling a cat reaching into a fishbowl, using her tippy-toes to tap at the volute shell. the mollusc immediately retracted into it; with surprise phaedra pulled back her leg and looked up to her mama for an explanation. "i scareded id?" though she supposed that didn't explain how it managed to retreat into itself. the child twisted her lips and lowered herself to her belly, softly speaking to the snail. "sorry ifs scareded you, i'm name is phaedwa and dis'ids mama." she introduced, hoping her apology would persuade it back out. 
alas, only its tentacles presenty waggled in view at its mantle. another thing then occurred to her: "id carry ids den on id back?" she asked astutely, mulling over how heavy that must be if snails were part rock like she surmised. to that end, being able to immediately retreat into your den at a moment's notice domiciled a great deal of envy in her. "well, snell, pleased do meed you, sowwy again for scarin' ..." she said glumly. she would have very much liked to have learned his or her name, but she had treated it with disrespect, and thus lost her opportunity. 
onto the next thing! she plounced into the puddle, digging through the shallow water and biting at her reflection in the water before losing interest and breezing back to her mother's flank. "off us go do vindhoe!!"

The exchange between Phaedra and the snail, while wholly one-sided, was one of the most wholesome things Wylla had ever witnessed. Despite wincing when her daughter mispronounced 'will' with Mahler's strange inflection, it was charming to watch a child trying converse with a creature that Wylla wasn't positive even had a brain. She snorted a low chuckle when Phaedra compared the snail's excretions to Thade's—not an inaccurate assessment—and outright laughed when she tapped its shell, causing it to withdraw.

Yes, you scared it, she said when Phaedra shot a questioning look her way. You're much, much bigger than that snail. Imagine if a gigantic foot came down from the sky and bopped you on the back. Although it was meant to be ridiculous for the sake of Phaedra's imagination, Wylla bit back the urge to shudder at the notion of such enormous creatures existing. To be a snail would be tragic, indeed.

I think that's it's den, yeah, she agreed, although she really had no idea. A snail wasn't so different from a hermit crab in her mind, and hermit crabs hoisted their homes around on their back, so maybe snails lived inside their shell as well. Phaedra offered the poor tormented creature a soft apology before splashing through the water, prompting Wylla to resume her walk with her eyes peeled for other interesting sights.

Alas, there were none. They reached the rushing river that was Windholme in short order, and Wylla was quick to draw Phaedra's attention to the smooth, glistening pebbles lining the banks with a crafty croon of, bet you can't find a better treasure here than me!

she clipped alongside wylla for a few leisurely strides, humming quietly to herself.
alas, leisure was not her tempo. at her legs impatient behest, without another word, phaedra broke into a clumsy scorch-the-earth run, flying like blown flame, or so she liked to believe as her ears tucked against her head (for aerodynamic purposes, doi) and she felt the breeze sleeking down her fur. with legs like these, who needs enemies? she'd just mow 'em down. that's how fuckin' fast she was. 
her mother often had to shout out things like wroooong way or you're about to hit a branch to recompense for her daughter's complete lack of any sense of direction. phaedra minded these navigational calibrations, making a geometry junkyard of their expedition.
look, all she knew was that a) she was a comet with a trajectory for VIDEHOOOOOOOO! and b) she was fully incapable of slowing her roll.
of course, little miss didn't fully understand what this adventure entailed until the sight of blue breathed into view. their journey brought them adjacent to an oxbow of a river. windholme.
uh. more like, lesgoholme. now. right now. 
the eisen had the foresight to take her child to the riffles, where the water ran shallowest, but even then, the scent of white water took the wind right out of her sails. wylla didn't even need to tell her kid to slow down and wait. the girl was already stalled like a ramshackle PT cruiser (the model with the wood side-paneling), eyes pinned on their destination all glasslike. she was inside that memory again. the feeling of helplessness crawled all over, the scapel of fear making its incision—
then, mother was at her side, reassuring and nudging her onwards. she shook her head. the youngling would never know if papa had told mama of her near-drowning those days ago, and if he had, to what extent (phaedra only remembered bits and pieces; feelings, sensations, and that papa had come to take her home), but either way, wylla walked her to the treeline, letting phaedra set the pace, and then began coaxing her bairn from eavesdropping on those voices of the past with a cajoling summons to competition. "bet you can't find a better treasure here than me!" 
blinking overmuch as she came back to present, phaedra stuck her tongue out with doubt. "bed you i's can find bedder chesddar afore you mama!" she declared, never once doubting her own ability to do so. she didn't even know what treasure was but phaedra was satisfied she would find it first.
if anyone knew how to get their daughter gassed-up, it was wylla. 
tentatively, she broke away from the trees and hesitatingly slunk alongside the shore, shifting her body uneasily to peer into the clear water at the multicolored stones and salmon slowly planing the streambed.
she reached out to pat the waters surface with the soles of her paw and watched with intrigue as they all scattered in different directions. instinctively she lurched into a playbow, growling menacingly at the large fish and once again peered down, this time catching her reflection as it flowed in wavelets. her heart was in her throat asudden. who are you and why do you keeping following me?
but remembering mama was here if she trouble found her, as was its wont, she relaxed.
she wouldn't have to rescue herself, not this time—but she could. and that was so emboldening a thought, phaedra waded into the water until it lapped at her elbows, eyes trying to watch all the fish but finding that to be a somewhat difficult task to keep up. she could even smell their piscine aspect, and committed it to her memory unconsciously. 
without a second doubt, she plunged her snout under, eyes tracking salmon that swam by. how could they stay under for so long? moments later she felt her lungs begin to sizzle and thrust her face from the water, gasping dramatically for air, then repeated it twice more.
"mama! der simming saladmanners ALL OVAH DA PLACE!" she bellowed, the fur on her face and head ridiculously mussed. she turned her attention back to the darting fish, chasing after them through the shallows and plunging her face in again to snap her teeth around—"HECK"—she began coughing and spluttering water. 
she shook her wet coat out, and then her eye spied something lodged against the colorful pebbles and rocks unlike all the others. she stomped to it and waited for it to wink away like any other fish, but it sat motionless. the curio was serrated on its edges, trigonal and sharp-ended. an impressively sized megaladon tooth was her discovery, though she had no way of knowing what it was, much less of its rarity.
phaedra towed it from under the water and placed the giant relic on a boulder to get a better look, then promptly forgot about its existence when a bright red fish flashed between her legs and instinct bade she give chase. knocking the fossil off with a careless sail of her tail, it plopped into the depths and sank into place against the streambed.
"i'ms boud do win! jus— unf godda— gid'em ..." she grunted, sloshing her legs every which way trying to pin the salmon to the pebbly floor.

Wylla might never have known about Phaedra's fear of water if she hadn't looked back to find the girl's feet bound to the earth with a vacant quality to her stare. What little she knew of Phaedra's near-drowning experience, she'd assumed was an exaggeration, so it took her by surprise to see her daughter fettered so.

But it was very brief, and then Phaedra was in the water, thrusting her snout under and presumably watching the fish as they weaved and dipped around the current. Meh. Maybe it was nothing, but maybe it wasn't. She'd keep it in mind. Wylla herself stepped into the shallows as well, relishing the cool wash of water over her ankles. It brought her back.

It wasn't the cold bite of the sea, but it was a small, nostalgic thing, and she cherished it all the same.

Mama! She looked up to where Phaedra stood, dripping wet and excitedly exclaiming about the simming saladmanners, which made her crack a wide grin. Kids were dumb as rocks and it was hilarious. Perceptive, but dumb. Those are fish, she called back. They go blub, blub and live underwater.

That was the end of that lesson, Phaedra decided by throwing her face back into the water, only to emerge with an oath that made Wylla laugh aloud. She indulged a moment in a romp through the shallows, kicking water and snapping playfully after the darting streaks of red that swam past. Despite growing up by the ocean, fishing was never her forte, so she didn't even try to catch one.

That is, until Phaedra did. Wylla wasn't paying attention when she pulled a gigantic shark tooth out of the water; she only zoned back in on her daughter when she began shouting again, wading awkwardly around like she was trying to grab something between her toes.

Like this! she whooped, darting her slim muzzle into the water between her daughter's forelegs, only to promptly miss the salmon and emerge spluttering with a bit of river greenery draped across her snout.