Redhawk Caldera Brilliance Autumn Fern

Frolic sat up with a huff, a sooty paw coming up to rub at her jaw. There was a metallic taste in her mouth: blood. Her approaching sister was given a cursory glance as she stood up and spat out a mouthful of frothy, pinkish saliva. Her tongue knocked against a loose tooth and she couldn’t resist pressing its tip against the canine again and again, wiggling it.

Looking up at Chickadee—no, wait, that was Ceridwen—Frolic exclaimed, Look! I kin move m’toof with m’tongue! and did a demonstration by opening her mouth wide and flicking the tip of her tongue violently against the fang jarred loose by the latest impact.