Twisted Slough Livin' at my mommas house, we'd argue every month.

The wind picked up abruptly, rocking the bough upon which X balanced with his meal. He clenched his talons around the grouse's body, waiting for the wind to die down again so he could continue feeding. Meanwhile, his golden eyes scanned his surroundings, almost immediately honing in on a gray wolf below, his body slathered with mud from the swamp.

The hawk wondered if the wolf lived nearby. When Towhee had given him this task, she had mentioned keeping an eye out for other wolves. Obviously, they wouldn't want to relocate somewhere already claimed, or even too close to an inhabited territory. The wolf below looked a little slim, plus he appeared to be missing an eye. X's head cocked as he studied the canine's features from a distance.

He couldn't speak to wolves directly—his tongue simply couldn't shape to their language—but he had grown quite adept at communicating in other ways. After quickly bolting down the rest of the grouse, the hawk gave a shrill cry to draw the wolf's attention.