Hoshor Plains The river sang and we wept in cerulean tears.

It was a miracle she caught Tamar’s words, though Towhee set down her paw and looked up just in time. She saw the embrace coming and opened to it, rain mixing with tears as she clutched at the sprightly Morphe. It was brief but intense, the two soon parting to step back.

Yeah. Oh, and be careful about Tikal, Towhee said thickly. If you need help—if you need anything—you know where to find me. Take care, Tamar.

Tamar departed for the vale. Towhee turned to her son, who was looking after her retreating figure. He looked over at Towhee and their eyes locked. She shouldn’t keep him long, not in this weather, but she couldn’t bear to rush their farewells. Come hell or high water, Towhee would not leave without bidding her son a proper goodbye.