Redsand Canyon Runs on dreams and gasoline

Wait. . . He'd gotten bad intel, obviously. What kind of a soldier was he? Sorry, Ma. I thought it was you, not Tierra. 

He wondered if his aunt-cousin-whatever was okay. They didn't talk; she rubbed him the wrong way. 

Killdeer's face bloomed into a smile. Banged up, but hanging in there, he replied, tail wagging slightly. I like her. She's got a good sense of humor.

Was that a flutter in his stomach? Surely not.