Redsand Canyon Wilderland.

Towhee nodded to acknowledge Mulberry’s responses, expression scrunching instantaneously when she mentioned Hideaway Strath. The name on the youth’s lips was like a stick, stirring a memory to the surface from the murk of her mind. She had been scoping out Cedar Sweep a year or two back when she’d discovered scents originating from the nearby strath prison. And that hadn’t even been the first time she’d come across wolves imbeciles squatting there.

Why would anyone live in that hellhole? Towhee rasped, then shook her head. She didn’t bother explaining her history with the place to Mulberry, instead saying, I have kids your age. I know you’re clearly capable and independent, but if you ever need a mentor—for more than just training, I mean—my door is open. Literally. She pointed at the nearby mouth of her particular “apartment.”

She pondered a moment before deciding, I’m going to head in there to rest for a bit before my next patrol. If you’d like to join me, meet me at the sparring pit in, mm, two hours. We can run it.