The Floodlands You never go to parties.

Towhee's eyes narrowed to slits when he implied she needed the "right people." It made it difficult to follow the next few words, but how dare he imply her godparents weren't the most qualified wolves on earth? In that moment, the Alpha realized she took more offense from slights on them than on herself.

But as with the maddening conversation with Colt, she managed to curtail the impulse to interrupt or otherwise react until he finished. His attitude toward everything was such an improvement on Colt's and, for that alone, Towhee gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had issues with the leadership, but at least he bothered to keep his criticism constructive. Plus, he made a point to put a positive spin on everything.

"Newsflash: Alphas aren't perfect," Towhee told Quixote, the inference rubbing her the wrong way after Colt had painted it as if leaders couldn't have flaws or weaknesses of any kind, gods forbid a disability. A moment ago, she'd been worried that she'd have to ask him to leave too, though now she circled back to the earlier topic. "I think we should both think about the fact that you're a reasonably eligible candidate for leadership—that you might have a lot to offer."

But it didn't have to happen right now. Although Towhee knew she was well within her rights to do whatever she pleased as Alpha, she hadn't been lying to Colt when she'd told him she considered her Betas her equals. They made decisions as a team wherever possible. She'd definitely want to consult with them about a fourth and final leader, specifically whether they thought Quixote was cut out for and worthy of the last open slot on Redhawks' council.

"That is," she added a moment later, tail flicking, "if you can stand working with Uncle Elwood, Aunt Finley and myself. 'Cause none of us are going anywhere."