Heron Lake Plateau now i’m free from what you are

If asked to give a percentage, Towhee might have said she'd regained about 50% of the sensation in her leg. Although it was only operating at half capacity, she also would've said she was 100% adapted to it now, or at least very close to that number. Only a very careful observer would even notice her limp and it only slowed her down marginally. She still didn't consider herself in top fighting shape but she'd really made lemonade out of these lemons. If not for her concerns for Tegan and Ceara, she might have even claimed life was smooth sailing lately.

But there was the matter of their still-missing pack mates, not to mention their absentee Alpha. It didn't really bother Towhee—Quixote, Niamh, her godparents and herself could steer the ship in the meantime—but it prevented her from sleeping restfully. Even after an exhaustive patrol, Towhee fidgeted in her sleep. She whimpered too, loudly, but of course that didn't wake her.

What did wake her was a stick flung at her face. Towhee jerked awake and rolled to her feet in a matter of seconds. She normally would've suppressed the guttural growl that instinctively bubbled in her throat, yet when she saw who'd thrown it, she went right ahead and unleashed it. She also ignored Phox's frantic signing entirely as she took hold of the stick and charged, planning to stab him with it.