Emberwood I got a nautical-themed Pashmina Afghan

He chuckled, grinning. Oh, so that's where I get it from, he remarked. Some dude Cal and I crashed with said I kept him up all night. He snorted, elongating the sound in illustration, and faintly preened as his mother remarked upon his height. And then drew back, stifling a giggle.

You would, Killdeer shot back. Ma had always pulled pranks on him; he wouldn't put it past her to shrink him down to kid-size again.

He straightened once more, pursing his lips in a quiet whistle as he looked around. This place is pretty cool, he said, looking back at Fennec. Pretty, and cool—but quiet. And fairly empty. So, Gramma Towhee decided not to come with you? he asked, unaware of the can of potentially writhing, angry worms he'd opened there. Or Rue, or the twins, or. . .anybody else?

That seemed odd. Everyone at the caldera had been so tight-knit—or he'd thought as much, anyway.