Heron Lake Plateau It's almost like a Hallmark movie, but with tentacles.

She made no verbal response when he pointed out X's species, as if somehow Towhee had overlooked it. He had a point about the recent mix-up—she'd questioned her own judgment outright, along with the hawk's—but it was clear that he was here to stay. If Colt didn't like him, he could pound sand.

"I don't give a rat's ass about representation," Towhee admitted baldly. It wasn't exactly a secret, after all, was it? "I leave that to wolves who're better at it. Because the Alpha title doesn't mean that I'm suddenly master of all things, in any sense of the word."

Colt threw in another snide comment about X and she repeated herself, "X has been extremely effective with communicating." Towhee sort of wanted to sic the bird on him right then, maybe gouge out his eye so the pack could have a matching set (Screech and Colt). But she shook her head and dismissed that absurd thought out of hand.

"I don't give a shit if you don't like it," she finally snapped, growing weary of the subject, "deal with it or get out, Colt." She almost pointed out to him that he'd failed miserably at bringing up any specific concerns or incidents, but at this point, all Towhee could manage was another growl as she bristled at him.