Redhawk Caldera Although it hurts me so

AW!

Hotah settled near the edge of the caldera, the frost-dulled grass pressed flat beneath his weight. A small bird lay between his paws, feathers still warm. He worked with practiced care, stripping the plumage clean and quick, movements efficient and unshowy.

His thoughts stayed quiet as he worked. Hunt. Clean. Prepare. Simple things, done well.

When the last feathers were set aside, he paused, lifting his head to scan the slopes before returning to the task, readying the small kill to be brought back.

Somedays, it felt like there were stinging insects living inside her skin. She desperately wanted out of this place. @Killdeer thought of the caldera as a family legacy, though Towhee now considered it a family curse. She wanted to leave and never, ever come back.

Of course, she couldn’t actually do that. But the thought was so all-consuming that Towhee knew she needed to tell someone else about it before she lost her fucking mind. She supposed she could circle back to @Towhee Jr, though her pacing ruminations brought her to stand over Hotah.

I need, she said, speaking aloud in the hopes that continued practice would serve as speech therapy, to tell you something.

Hotah looked up from where he was working, attention settling fully on her. He didn’t rush her or press, just waited.

Okay, he said calmly, voice patient and open.

He stayed right there, giving her the space to say whatever she needed to say next.

Her eyes drifted over his prey for a moment. She didn’t recognize the species, though it felt a little ironic that he was tearing apart a bird. When the slight January breeze picked up a stray feather and sent it whirling away, it reminded her of another. Her stomach knotted.

I hate it here, she admitted in a miserable murmur, eyes tracing over Hotah’s face.

Hotah stilled at once, the feather in his paw forgotten. His head lifted, eyes sharpening with surprise and concern as he took her in fully.

Hate it? he repeated quietly. Why?

He searched her face, voice lowering. Has something happened?

Towhee exhaled, watching Hotah’s face. He looked taken aback, which was fair enough. She’d hidden her vitriol well, she supposed. He wanted to know why, though the next few words out of his mouth earned a long, hard stare. Hotah always said the right thing, yet here was an astoundingly glaring exception.

Other than the death of our son? she said slowly, hollowly.

He deserved the benefit of the doubt, she knew. He had always been such a wonderful support and she’d just blindsided him with this confession. Towhee sucked in a breath through her teeth, trying to calm down the spiders itching through her veins, and found words suddenly streaming from somewhere deep in her chest.

My parents didn’t actually choose this place, you know. My mother, Fox, fell and broke her leg. They had no choice but to settle here and make the best of it. But that was just the first of so many tragedies that have happened here. My dad, the original Peregrine, died here conceiving me. My mom died here birthing me. The caldera has been killing Redhawks for more than ten years. Some fucking legacy.

Hotah flinched at her words, the sting sharp and immediate. His jaw tightened, breath catching before he corrected her, quiet but firm.

Missing, he said. He’s missing.

His gaze held hers, steady and aching all at once. He’s my son too.

He didn’t interrupt after that. He listened as she spoke, every word landing heavy, every loss stacking until it made cruel sense. When she finished, he drew a slow breath, grounding himself.

I hear you, Hotah said softly. I do.

A pause, then a question, not a challenge. An opening.

So… you want to leave? he asked. Where would you go?

No, she refuted in her mind, her eyes hardening as they locked on his. They narrowed when he reminded her that Peregrine was his son too. Hadn’t she just said “our”? Her jaw clenched, though the stricken look in his eye reminded her that they were on the same side.

I didn’t say that, she pointed out in her slow, slurring way, but yes, I do. She wanted that more than almost anything. But I can’t. And I won’t. Towhee looked away from him for a beat, admitting to the mountain’s western wall, I just needed to tell someone. I know there’s nothing you or I can do about it.

She fidgeted, then began to pace as those biting, pinching, stinging instects took flight in her nervous system again. Towhee couldn’t just abandon everyone and uproot, for so many reasons, but she also wasn’t sure how much longer she could live with feeling like this.

Hotah rose and stepped into her path, careful not to crowd her, just enough to slow the pacing. He set a steady paw against her shoulder, grounding, calm.

He signed as he spoke, voice low and even.

-Hey. Breathe.-

His touch stayed firm, reassuring. -We’re not powerless,- he said quietly. -Not you. Not me.-

He met her eyes, a flicker of hope that he hoped she'd absorb.

-Then we’ll do whatever it takes to find the good here,- Hotah continued. -However long it takes. Together.-

He didn’t rush her after that. He stayed, solid and present, letting the restlessness ease against him.

Part of her wanted to shake off his touch, though Towhee suppressed it. She forced herself to look at him, pay attention to what he was saying. She felt bitterness and resentment roiling around in her gut, which she knew wasn’t fair. She couldn’t help the way she felt, only the way she behaved.

I can’t deal with your optimism right now, she had to admit. -Sorry,- she gestured quickly. It’s just that… Hotah, I’m so much older than you. I’ve been through more shit than you can possibly imagine. So you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe our son is alive. If I don’t believe there’s any goodness left to be found.

Gently, she backed away from his reach. Towhee didn’t resume pacing, she just stood back and looked at him a long moment. If he wanted to believe Peregrine was alive, why should she convince him otherwise? If he was convinced of a bright future, Towhee didn’t want to rob him of that.

Look, she began, only to fall silent for a beat before she could collect her thoughts and articulate them. I don’t want to drag you down with me. I shouldn’t have burdened you with this. Pretend I didn’t say anything and try not to worry about me. I’m not going to just up and leave. I won’t abandon the girls. But…

She felt like she was going to jump out of her skin. Towhee raked a paw over her face and picked up the pacing after all. Misery was an old friend of hers, though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. It was unbearable.

Maybe I just need to get away from this place for a bit. Can you look after them for a few days…?

Hotah stepped back at once, paws lifting in quiet surrender, giving her the space she asked for. His voice stayed gentle, unoffended.

-I’m sorry,- he said simply.

He let her pace, didn’t try to stop it this time. When she asked, he nodded without hesitation.

-Yeah,- Hotah answered. -I’ve got them. As long as you need.-

A pause, then softer:

-You've got nothing to worry about here.-

She halted when Hotah’s agreement prompted a poignant sense of relief. It wasn’t a permanent fix, though Towhee realized that if she could just get the hell out of dodge for a few days, maybe she could clear her head. Perhaps she could even find some of Hotah’s optimism somewhere out there in the surrounding wilderness.

I’ll only take a few days, she swore, frowning at the giddy feeling in the deeps of her belly when she realized she knew exactly where she wanted to go. I think I’ll go visit the canyon.

Maybe she should’ve pestered Bushtit after all. It didn’t really matter now. Towhee could feel the insectile sensation fading from her skin and heaved an actual sigh of relief. For the first time in days—maybe even weeks—she felt a flicker of something like hope.

I’m going to go up to the Hobbit Hole, tell the girls and the others that I’ll be gone for a few days, she decided aloud, already lurching in that direction but stopping herself to look him in the eye and sign, -Thank you, Hotah.-

Hotah nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing as he saw the relief settle in her. He met her gaze without trying to stop her, steady as ever.

I’ll be here, he said quietly. Take the time you need.

When she signed her thanks, he answered with a small, reassuring smile.

-Go,- Hotah added. -We’ll be okay. I’ve got them.-