Nova Peak jämmerlich

"perhaps if we could speak his language, ve could ask him."
light bulb! a brilliant opportunity to prove her meritoriousness to her father. surely his chest would swell with pride to see his daughter's stout-hearted endeavor of— 
"ich schaffe das!" she said excitedly, pronking in place on the balls of her feet; mahler's figurative remark was taken as consent to do just as he proposed: simply ask the moose. if she could understand caintigern, why shouldn't she be able to ask a moose a question or two as well? urgent curiosity had already bribed her, besides. 
phaedra was mid-vault over the berry bush without awaiting further enjoinment from her father, cutting a beelining path through the grass in a jogtrot towards the moose with her tail, the pale beam to her waning moon figure, streaming affably. 
the bull was made restless by the advance of the youngling wolf. still a few yards away, he blew through his nostrils as the hairs on his shoulder hump flared. cloven hooves scraped the mud as a warning, but the giant elected to rack across the field instead of charge her, routing a corner and disappearing behind an ensconcement of dense growth.