Redhawk Caldera Every songbird says

Towhee's eyes were partially open too, though she barely noticed this new development. At any given time, she was too busy whimpering, shivering and trying to wedge herself underneath the nearest warm, fuzzy body. No matter what she did, though, the cold seeped into her little bones. It was especially horrible if she messed herself; the excrement would grow cold almost immediately and then she would tremble uncontrollably until a broad tongue coaxed some warmth back into her tiny body.

Too cold to sleep, eat or even move much currently, Towhee rolled from her back to her side and clung to the warm lump beside her, ignoring its slight movements. She did register the blurry black silhouette in front of her face, the sharp backdrop of pale blue light (the wintry morning sunlight pouring into the den) and even the little blue blob of her brother's eyeball. But Towhee didn't care much. In fact, she mashed her face against Phox's, desperate to share his body heat.