Redhawk Caldera An only child of the universe

It made the most sense to leave the injured hawk with Raven while she did patrols, yet he refused to let Towhee out of his sight. Stupid bird, she caught herself thinking with an exasperated sort of fondness, wincing tolerantly at the stinging scratches littering her shoulder blades. He had gotten better about not digging his talons in too much, yet it would still take some time for them to perfect his posture. Regardless, she had to admit that she felt really cool, strutting around the place with a red hawk on her shoulder, even if he did have a busted wing.

It slowed down her patrols significantly, however, as she was entirely too conscious of her extra cargo and putting a ridiculous amounts of effort into not unseating him. "You know," she said, coming to a sudden stop, "I can't let you slow me down like this. Either we figure out how I can move quicker without you falling off and/or gouging me, or I'm going to have to leave you behind next time." Towhee wasn't entirely sure how much he understood, yet he must comprehend somewhat as he clicked his beak unhappily. "Raven says your wing should be better in a few weeks, then you can fly overhead. In the meantime, though... buckle up, buddy."

And without any further warning, the she-wolf dug her toes into the ground and darted, a trot speeding up into a lope and eventually turning into a full gallop. She felt the pinch of his yellow talons and a weird pressure against the bones of her shoulder, yet it wasn't intolerable. Towhee experienced jolts of alarm now and again as she felt him swaying precariously but he seemed to compensate and, anyway, she refused to temper her pace. Patrols were already grueling enough without taking twice the time to complete.

When they'd gone quite a stretch without the hawk flying off and crashing to the ground, Towhee skidded to a stop and whooped, "Giddyup!" in an overly loud voice that resembled a donkey's bray. She received a screech in return; she didn't hear it but she felt the slight vibration through his feet. She turned to grin fiendishly at him, only for the hawk to refuse to return her gaze. He was staring at something in the distance. His beak opened again and he gave her a telling squeeze.

"Ow, don't f—" she began, only to whip around and spot the dark wolf planted on the borders about two hundred yards ahead.