Heron Lake Plateau I name this boat Roast Beef. May God bless her and all who sail in her.

As he was musing he heard someone approaching, turning to see Towhee heading his way.  It had been a while since they'd talked more than in passing.  She'd come by to see the pups and stuff, sure, but Quixote was an awkward turtle so he hadn't done much for conversation.  Their last time they actually chatted?  It was kind of weird from his perspective, wasn't it?  Honestly, he still hadn't figured out the whole being social thing.

She did seem to be limping a bit, and he was prepared to just brush it off as some ordinary misadventure when she started to explain it.  Hey. Then as she continued, his expression went from vague concern to sort of a "yikes, okay then" kind of expression.  He blinked owlishly.  So uh, left it as a snack for X I guess?  He grinned awkwardly.  It was perhaps a little bit more detail than he would have given if he'd been through the same thing.  Then again, his adventure falling off a short cliff had pretty much been summarized as, "I kinda slipped."  And it's been long enough you're sure you're not gonna keel over during a patrol, right?  Though not a herpetologist, Quixote knew some snakes were dangerous at least.  Honestly, he just left all of them alone if he could, not really worth the risk.  For real, though, he had no idea if someone could even treat a venomous snake bite but if he did need to call Raven, he'd rather do so before it was an emergency...