Redhawk Caldera m-i-c-k-e-y m-o-u-s-e.

Her stomach hurt so much lately, she could barely eat and spent most of her time curled up in the Hobbit Hole, sleeping. Feeling physically ill also made her depression worsen. By now, Towhee could admit that to herself: she was fucking depressed. The self-awareness probably had a lot to do with Caracal constantly asking her what was wrong and staring at her in concern. She still couldn't admit it to him or anyone else but, yeah, she could acknowledge it in unhappy silence.

Today, she forced herself out of the Hobbit Hole into the August sunshine. She took a deep breath and tilted her face toward the sky, closing her eyes. She probably looked quite disheveled but Towhee didn't care. One step at a time, she made herself walk toward the borders. Any time she needed to pause and rest a minute, she gave herself that. Slowly but surely, she found her way there.

The Sovereign intended to turn right back around and return to the den. She couldn't patrol in her condition. This was enough of an accomplishment for today. But then she saw Figment standing there, beaming even more brightly than the summer sun, and Towhee's breath caught in her throat.