Sun Mote Copse Blow the wind southerly.

She smiled gently at the touch to her cheek, then withdrew so she could read Niamh's lips more effectively. "Yeah," she agreed, "yes, I want kids. Fig and Fen are my own but I want the experience of, you know, carrying them." Towhee almost said she wanted to experience the miracle of childbirth but, honestly, that would be a lie. It sounded horrible. Worth it. But still not the highlight, by any stretch of the imagination. "And, I mean, two is great but I want more," just like many parents did.

"I never talked to Rave about this," Towhee said in the next beat. It wasn't technically the truth but the one time she'd let slip, her sister hadn't heard her, and she had never brought it up again. She'd held it close to the vest for a long time, really, while she took the time to assess her own cryptic feelings about it all. Only when achieving clarity recently had she finally opened up about it. "I'm going by the fact that I went into heat last year, banged a bunch'a dudes, and nothing happened. But Aunt Finley said, 'never say never,' so... is it bad that I'm hoping one of these randos knocked me up?" Okay, Pippin wasn't exactly random, plus he was the most likely father just by the numbers. Still, Towhee didn't think about her potential offspring as belonging to anyone but her.