The Floodlands You never go to parties.

Was fun! Looking forward to the ensuing drama, dun dun dun...

He felt like he was going to get away with murder.  Okay, obviously not literally since nobody was even dead, but just the same...   But hey, free tip about Raven, at least?  Huh, I'll keep that in mind.  Even if a relationship didn't work in the end, he could do with another friend if Colt really was gone, ne'er to return.  There was just so much that had happened in such a short period of time.  What happened to the calm since the war was over?

Oh good, finally he'd be able to get of here  -- I'll take you up on it another time -- I have a bone to pick with those water birds, he lied, but Quixote felt like it was a tiny fib in comparison.  He bowed his head politely, watching Towhee head off on her patrol.

The hardest part was trying to keep himself calm as he moved out of sight.  Though he breathed a sigh of relief once he could no longer see Towhee, at least the bird wouldn't be able to communicate the repeated stilted shifts between a run and a hurried walk that carried him across the top of the plateau.  Raven.  He had to talk to Raven.