Lake Rodney your fathers been calling

The boy glossed over the fact he had answered to his real name. His head was still ringing from the face-plant, and his entire system was overwhelmed with a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline. The more she talked though, the more at-ease he felt. She was a great comfort to him - the sight of her, the smell, making Titmouse feel more and more like he was home. Even though Raven had not birthed his round of firebirds herself, she was the closest thing to a mother figure - and he would likely never forget it.

Before he could react any further, she was assaulting his face with her tongue. It was a warm and nurturing action, but he was easily overwhelmed by this too; the boy sputtered and tried to free his face from her attention (to no avail), until she was finally finished, and Tit's face was a mess of smoothed, saliva-covered fur.

I'm not back! He sort of bellowed at the earliest convenience, when she was still quite close to his face. Realizing how that sounded a moment later, his ears fanned out to either side of his head (hooray more embarrassment!) and he frowned, trying to hide how flustered he was behind a weak wall of stoicism he had yet to master. I just -- I ran in to Towhee, she screamed at me, and -- I couldn't -- I needed -- The more he tried to explain, the more he thought about the previous events, the harder it became for him to breathe, until Tit was once again hyperventilating and dropping low to the ground.