Heron Lake Plateau she's tore up plenty, but she'll fly true

The idea that Raven might kill her own offspring was so unthinkable that Towhee pretended as if the caregiver hadn't even said it. In any case, her concentration was pretty much set on another subject matter: the Alpha female rank. She hadn't thought it through (something she tended to do—or not do, rather—a lot lately) but the more she did think about it, the more it made sense. Raven and Quixote could take up the helm and welcome the next generation of Redhawk heirs. It was sort of picture perfect, really.

Raven didn't seem to agree. Towhee's eyes narrowed petulantly at the term "child," though she quickly schooled her expression. "Rave," she said evenly (for her, anyway), "you'd have Quixote to help you. It's the right thing to do, if you really respect pack law and tradition. You're about to have his pups, aren't you? It's the Alphas' right to breed freely." She rolled her white-streaked shoulders again. "And I'm already not a good Alpha, so that argument is totally void," she added sagely.