Bramblepoint There's a new sheriff in town.

A great wind shook the trees as Towhee entered the forest in the early hours of the morning. Although she had been distracted by the appearance of an interloper the previous day, she had found herself wondering about the hawk and its fate. She saw no sign of it as she moved slowly through the trees, which were rocking wildly as their colorful leaves were stripped from their shaking boughs. Perhaps it hadn't been hurt, after all, and had flown somewhere far away.

When she struck the scent of a rabbit, Towhee shifted her attention to the hunt. She wasn't the best trapper, yet she somehow managed to nab the hare. It was a fat one too. She carried the chunky carcass to a patch of yellowing grass and stretched out to enjoy her repast, the noises of her eating drowned out by the wind that continued to gust through the trees—not that Towhee was aware of either sound.

She was halfway through the rabbit, her muzzle slathered with gore, when her orange eyes lifted to find the hawk perched on a mossy log directly in front of her, perhaps five yards away. Towhee blinked and raised her head even more, licking her chops. She and the hawk regarded one another for several long minutes, during which she observed its wing; it was definitely broken. Her head tilted slightly as she watched the wind ruffle the raptor's reddish brown feathers before finally blowing so hard that the hawk was forced unceremoniously from its perch.

It managed to stay upright, just barely, but looked rather rumpled as it stood there on the forest floor, blinking even as leaves swirled around it. Feeling intrigued by this avian hunter, Towhee slowly pushed herself upright. Keeping her orange eyes on the bird, she snatched a lump of meat from her kill, then tossed it toward the hawk. She half-expected it to, at best, ignore the meat or, at worst, flee as it had done yesterday. However, the hawk straightened up and, after a deliberative moment, leaped forward and snatched the morsel off the ground and quickly gobbled it. It then turned its head, beak partially open as if begging for more.

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Several hours later—dusk was starting to cloak the land—Towhee finally began making her way back toward the caldera, moving quite painstakingly slowly due to the red-tailed hawk perched precariously between her shoulder blades.