Redhawk Caldera Bosses are bad, dude

He moved away from her and Towhee stiffened, taking a step back herself and shooting him a questioning look. She watched his mouth move as he explained that only one ear didn't work properly. Having never owned functioning ears, it took the Xi a moment to puzzle out what that meant, though Nigtjar did a pretty decent job at explaining it to her. When the information sank in, she couldn't decide whether to feel crestfallen that he wasn't exactly like her or hopeful that she still had something of a kindred spirit in this wolf.

She was tempted to seize the former feeling and push him away, relegating him to an outsider's status once more. He could still hear, after all, so he couldn't truly understand. Towhee did take yet another step away from him, expression growing stony. But then she paused, unwilling to totally severe the bond she had just established with her elder brother. Even if he couldn't empathize, he could sympathize more than anyone else, even her closest loved ones. And, according to him, they both would've been culled by their mother had she known.

That reminded Towhee: nobody else knew Nightjar's secret. Although there was a part of her that resented him for being able to get away with normalcy like that, she couldn't help but feel special to be the only one that knew. She stared at him for several long beats, eyes slightly narrowed. There was a proverbial fork in her path—keep him close or shove him aside for good—and once she made a choice, she would stick with it.

"Well," she concluded after a long and ponderous silence, suddenly digging her toenails into the dead rabbit, "I guess that only makes you half as cool as me." She snorted. "I'll find you later to teach you some ptero and ask you for more stories. But right now, I'm gonna go eat." And probably think some more, to be honest. Without another word, Towhee bent down and snatched up the hare, then spun and trotted off to find somewhere secluded to partake in her meal.