Heron Lake Plateau Tyrants and kings both meet the same fate, strung up at your city gate

Entirely oblivious to Quixote's complex train of thoughts railroading in her direction, Towhee waited for his reply. It lacked any particular emotion; neither excitement nor fear seemed to be included. Her ear flicked, her lips pursing as she redirected her orange gaze straight ahead. Why did no one seem thrilled about the pups, their father included? Sure, their conception had triggered quite the melodrama, yet couldn't everyone just stow their shit long enough to admit that new life was awesome, promising, wonderful...?

"Yeah, Raven's going to be a great mom. Hell, she already is, or was. Did you know she was our wet nurse? Mine and Orca's." She didn't feel the need to mention Phox or Screech by name any more than she did the long forgotten Oriole and Stoat. "Our godparents obviously stepped into the more formal parental roles, but we wouldn't have survived without Rave."

But looks into the future or the past would have to be put on hold. Towhee saw a blur of motion up ahead and immediately gave chase, tailing a young coyote as it sped away from the plateau's base and eventually vanished into the night. She stopped to catch her breath, then sent up a quick, choppy howl letting Quixote know her location and that she'd catch up with him later if he chose to double back on the patrol. They had made some progress on getting to know one another better, so it was best now to divide and conquer.