Sun Mote Copse Dance of the sugar plum fairy.

It seemed he didn't even really need the distraction, though it had clearly worked one way or another. Towhee stole one final and furtive glance at the Blackthorns' den (whoseblood?) before squaring her shoulders and boring her orange eyes into her younger brother's face. It was like looking at a miniature, masculine Finley; Penn certainly had his mother's eyes. A rush of affection swept through her, both for this boy she hardly knew and her godmother. Maybe he didn't need it, though Towhee suddenly really hoped he would be up for a game.

"Okay, good. Show me your best move," the mercenary invited with a wriggle she hoped goaded the youngster into an attack.