Redhawk Caldera You gotta know your limits with a boombox

Ever since running off to help Gramma Oh-ee, Fennec had pretty much kept a gimlet eye on the boy, which really kinda cramped his style. Not that, you know, he knew she couldn't actually see. Not yet, anyway. She did such a good job of getting around without vision that so far, Killdeer had been fooled.

Same with Towhee's deafness—you know, this was probably a good thing. By the time he realized what was up, they'd be like everyone else, no less than any other. Which was good, right? I think that's good.

But it was too bad that Fennec was so vigilant, because he was bored. He could explore, but only by her side, or another trusted adult. And Towhee was laid up, apparently, because of that mean woman at the border.

Soooo. . .

Today he was torturing a cicada, giggling as it rattled each time he prodded it. It was a funny little thing, flapping its wings, a translucent green. Could he eat it? He sniffed to assess; it certainly didn't smell different than any other insect he had ingested. But it was so. . .LOUD!

Killer stuck his tongue out and gave it a cautious lick, and the resulting vibration elicited a startled but ultimately amused shriek from the boy.