Lion Head Mesa (ap) Not sure exactly where I am.

The bird was soundless. He wasn't even sure if the bird was there at all really, he could've been imagining things. This wasn't the first time he'd seen a bird while inebriated — though it had been a while, and the previous times were all variations on sea birds, not this hawk.

Reyes refused to read in to it.

He cast his eyes away from the bird (mostly because his neck and eyes hurt from the effort) and saw a dark shape ambling across the sand, then stop and stare. His first thought was of the guards who had led him out from the mesa's heart; he began to bristle while also donning a stupid grin, figuring that one of them had come back to help him in his time of need.

Aye there! If'n ya help a lad out, I'll be in yer debt! He sauntered closer in a not-exactly-straight line, and stopped when he finally realized the shape wasn't moving. Reyes squinted and gave a sniff of the air like an old sailor testing the direction of the wind: Hrn, ya don't smell like th'other maz-oi...


It was too dark (and he was too far gone) to recognize Towhee among the scrub grass.