Redhawk Caldera Coke is good for the soul. The soda, I mean.

She watched him from her perch midway up the caldera, her slim black body screened by a misshapen shrub. As the interloper came closer and closer to the territory's edge, Towhee's fur prickled, her muscles coiling with tension. She didn't make a move, however, until she saw him stop and throw his head into the air. Although she couldn't hear the howl, she recognized the pattern of movement. Once, she had pressed up close to Phox while he howled and the resonance had been intense. Whoever this stranger was, he was making a lot of noise. Others would come but the mercenary wanted to get to him first.

Rapidly, Towhee picked her way down the slope, then made a beeline toward the golden male. Her ruff and tail both puffed as she approached, her lips skinning back from her teeth in a grimace. "Who are you and what do you want?" she demanded in a flat, gruff voice that would likely be hard for him to understand. She half-expected him to declare himself another relative. It seemed to be the trend lately.