Deepwood Weald A bar song (tipsy).

For the first time in many days, Towhee felt strong enough to wander a little. She kind of wanted to head to Moontide to see her brother, though she didn’t want to thwart @Stingray’s efforts. She did meander in that general direction, opting to head east around Alpine Lake rather than through the slough. She decided she would go no further than the weald.

She was surprised when she arrived at its southwestern corner only to discover scent markers there. Towhee halted, nose lifting toward the sunny April sky. Was that @Dutch’s scent? Perhaps they’d moved from the glacier to live in the plateau’s shadow. Her orange eyes squinted thoughtfully.

On one hand, it was great to have more allied villages nearby. On the other, how the heck would Towhee—and anyone else, for that matter—travel between the hinterlands and the regions to the east now?

Dutch was not far from their borders. Recent events had him mired in guilt and sadness, but there was still work to be done.

His territory did not connect with Moontide's, but it was difficult to tell, considering how often wolves traveled between the two. On this day, he was gathering white stones in a patchy deer pelt — which he almost set down before remembering it would be useless to call out to the woman.

Instead of popping out of the mist, he trotted ahead to get upwind of of her, so that his scent on the breeze might herald his arrival. His tail wheeled in welcome as he trotted forward, but he could not offer a smile until he'd set the rocks down between them.

- Did baby make it back safely? - he asked, stumbling a little as he forgot the sign for daughter.

She took a seat, one forepaw coming up to idly smooth the fur on her chest as a contemplative expression took hold of her face. Towhee supposed she could call someone to clarify what was going on here, though it wasn’t really that pressing. She wasn’t trying to go any further today.

But she was curious, so when Dutch materialized, her eyes burned brightly on his face. They darkened a little at his question, her face contorting slightly. Her mind flashed back to the day when she’d thought she’d miscarried in front of him, then to another and much worse experience a few weeks later. Certainly he wasn’t asking about that.

-“I… don’t follow,”- she admitted, right before a proverbial light bulb clicked on over her head. -“Do you mean Jr?”- Towhee paused long enough for affirmation before adding, -“She’s been living in the copse this whole time. It’s that way, in case you want to go shout at her. I don’t know if it’ll do much good,”- she quipped, -“but it might make you feel better.”-

She smirked good-naturedly. Towhee was actually exceptionally grateful for her youngest’s presence at the copse, though she couldn’t fault Dutch for any resentment he felt about Jr’s behavior.

-“Anyhow, it’s good to see you, although I wasn’t expecting to see you here. What gives?”- she asked conversationally.

The panther shook his head with a little smile, and spoke aloud this time as well, so that she would have his lips to read when his ptero stumbled: -"She came to see me a few months ago,"- he told her. He was only glad that she was safe, and still among family.

The question was not unexpected. Dutch gave the short summary — of how members had come and gone, and how lonely things had become at the glacier.

-"We came to join Moontide, but there are many in their ranks. So we are settling the deepwood, at least for the spring and summer,"- he concluded, his tail waving in idle happiness. He was looking and feeling much less run-down than the last time he and Towhee had spoken, and he had the happy glow about him of a man in love. -"I'm gathering rocks to make trail markers,"- he told her, gesturing to the white stones spilling out of the deerskin bundle. -"So that travelers will know they may safely pass."-

His head cocked to the side.

-"Where are you headed?"- he asked her.

Her lips pursed thoughtfully at Dutch’s mention of Moontide. Hadn’t Meerkat mentioned something about this to her too? Apparently she’d met a young woman in search of a new home since there hadn’t been enough space in the coastal pack, whatever that meant. Towhee was curious how this might affect Phox and Heph. She almost asked, though she still didn’t want to undermine her grandson, so she stayed mum.

-“Oh? I was just wondering how that’d work,”- she said, intrigued by the idea of markers. -“I’m not going anywhere or doing anything, for that matter. Can I help you with that?”- Towhee said, bobbing her head toward the deerskin sling full of stones.

Sorry for the wait!

This offer saved him the trouble of recruiting her, and he gladly accepted. Of her wandering paws, he could only say, -"You remind me of myself, in my younger days,"- hoping he would not cause any offense.

He picked up the bundle and led Towhee back to the river bank, where the pale stones were scattered across the sands. It would be harder to talk like this, but the panther remained attentive. He wanted to know what drove her, but he was not quite sure how to ask.

Oh yeah? she asked, an eyebrow raised. How so?

He led her toward a riverbank, his sling in tow. Towhee stood by, awaiting instruction. She imagined Dutch gathered the stones here, then carried them to whatever part of the trail he was currently marking. Rinse and repeat.

It was probably boring and slightly grueling work, though she didn’t mind. She would have to take it easy, though, and tap out when she started feeling tired. Towhee had to make it home, after all, and she didn’t want to push herself too hard this soon after recovering.

This is a pretty ingenious idea, you know. When I realized you guys were here, I wondered how passage would work between Tuktu and Great Bear.

Dutch showed Towhee the size and color he was looking for and began to pick among the rocks once more. She spoke aloud to him, and he wondered again at how strange it must be to live without hearing, but he responded in kind all the same.

-"I used to do a lot of traveling. Wandering, more like. I spent my younger years as a bard and a sellsword. A bounty hunter."- He did not know all the signs for these words, so he substituted the one that Towhee Junior had showed him: warrior. -"These days, it is not so. I am stuck at home, minding the borders. I think I will prefer it this way. For a season, at least. Long enough to see the children grown."-

He might as well be sporting a bumper-sticker: Ask me about my unborn kids.

It was that or ingenious — a word at which Dutch preened like a proud tom cat, though he was, for once, too good to make any cheeky comment about it.

I did that in reverse, Towhee surmised with a little laugh. I used to be such a homebody back in the day. Yearling me would probably shit herself if she could see me today. She shook her head, then inquired, How many kids do you have?

To be honest, she didn’t notice that Dutch was selective about his stones until she’d gathered quite a few of her own. Only when she compared his pile to hers did she realize he had a type. She spent a moment sorting through hers to toss out the undesirables, all the while her eyes flicking back to Dutch’s face to catch his responses.

The crass language made him laugh, as did Towhee's backpedaling where her rock choices were concerned — albeit to a lesser degree. They had almost more than he could comfortably carry anyway, and he told her so while he helped pick out the less suitable rocks.

"Ah," he said, just a little uncomfortable, -"A complicated question. I would say four. More or less. The tribe they were born into does not recognize paternal lineage. 'Father' is only a nickname, there. I love them dearly, but I was discouraged from being a more active parent, and our relationship suffered for it. Older and wiser? I wish I would have pushed back harder against those values."-

It was a long speech to translate, and his efforts to use ptero were interrupted frequently by the task at hand. He flashed her a sad, somewhat sheepish smile and returned the question:

"How many do you have?"

His answer intrigued her. Towhee’s right brow arched slightly as he elaborated on the complexities of paternity in what she presumed was a former pack. He used the word “tribe,” which she decided she liked, even if their parenting guidelines left a little to be desired.

Don’t come at me for this, Towhee said, but I always insisted the mother was most important. But dads are important too. Did she—your kids’ mother—not want you more involved? she wondered, thinking all the way back to her early motherhood days.

She could recognize now that she’d been rather possessive and selfish, though in her defense, Meerkat had been her miracle and there was no way to know who’d sired her. She wondered if that applied to Dutch’s situation, especially considering his “more or less” answer.

A hundred, more or less, she replied cheekily to his volley.