The Floodlands You never go to parties.

He explained that he didn't mind her brevity, and why, and Towhee's head cocked. Her lips parted, though she pressed them together again as Quixote continued speaking. Despite what he might think, she was intrigued by the mention of his past and wanted to ask after the queer nickname, even if it didn't seem he really knew the explanation for it.

"Oh, probably," she answered his question about naming landmarks. It would make it feel more like home, not to mention it was a good way to commemorate the wolves and the grounds that had supported them along the way. "So—Don? Maybe not now, but sometime I'd like to hear one of these stories. Sounds right up my alley, considering my trades."

Just so he didn't feel put on the spot to regale her anyway, Towhee revisited the topic of trees. "Do you think we could maybe plant some more?" she wondered out loud. "They wouldn't grow fast enough for us to enjoy them. But for future generations?" She paused, licking her lips thoughtfully, jerking slightly when X suddenly decided to take wing and flapped away. She watched him for a moment before facing Quixote and asking, "Do you know Rave well at all? I bet she'd know."