Bramblepoint young, wild american lookin' to be somethin'

"Of course," Towhee replied just as swiftly, her own tail waving gently. "As soon as I know what's happening, I'll get a message to you. Maybe..." She peered speculatively at the hawk, who had begun preening his good wing a few feet away. "Maybe if he's healed when the time comes, I'll give him something—like a stone, for example—and send him your way... somehow... to notify you?" It was obvious she was thinking out loud. Her voice trailed off as she tipped her head, gazing at Hydra now to see if she had any input on how to accomplish this. It was probably wishful thinking—how on earth could she steer him in the correct direction?—but Towhee filed way the idea for later contemplation.

"Protect your throat," she answered readily, "and be vigilant. Never take your eyes off your rival." There were a thousand more guidelines stashed in her brain or embedded in her instincts, though those gave them a good starting point. "He'll be fine," Towhee added, shooting the raptor another glance. He was still prissily fussing over his feathers. "Let's move over this way a bit," she thought to add, putting more space between the two of them and the bird even as Towhee finally squared up in anticipation of launching the first of what would be many rounds of attack on Hydra.