Redhawk Caldera Break my neck for the holy bassgod.

In the final week of the month, Niamh found herself feeling completely overwhelmed, and incapable of dealing with either her grief or her hormones properly. At her best she was demanding, hyper-affectionate and needy, and at her worst distant and broken; her moods shifted like snowbanks under the toss and whirl of winter gales. In between the polar waves of emotions she felt blank and empty. She hid herself away in the den most times, not feeling at all selfish for doing so as it was the only way she could make sure she didn't cave in to emotional physical and weaknesses, and it was only in the private darkness of the den that she felt safe to grieve. 

She heard footfalls and wrinkled her nose when she caught Towhee's scent. Something about catching the scent of another hormonal woman irked her, though she respected Towhee's right to breed. She knew she didn't need to fear for Phox being tempted, as this was his sister- but there was still something deep and instinctive that made her wish Towhee would just walk away and leave the area, and take her hormones with her. 

So she didn't try to hide the exhausted, woebegone look she'd been sporting since Primrose's death when she emerged from the den. She caught Towhee's eye, and gave her a nod before she sat down. Her brow furrowed as a thought struck her. While she felt incredibly sullen, she did care about Towhee, and was curious to know why she was even still on the Caldera. They'd talked quite a bit about what her plans would be- so it was odd to see her at her own doorstep, of all places. -"Aren't you supposed to be on a sexcapade?"- She asked.