Moonspear Djupt du dreg anden inn, let tankar svinna.

Both Njord and Sialuk seemed to support the idea of Ptero classes. Towhee supposed she could pick up the same weekly schedule she had used in Epoch. Ignoring the flicker of guilty sadness that thought brought with it, she concentrated on the head’s question.

Sure, she answered, dropping signing because it was hard to do while on the move. There’s Towhee Jr, who looks just like me. She’s deaf and nonverbal, which is part of why I really want to spread the use of Ptero. Sable, my youngest son, also doesn’t speak much. Jr will learn to lipread too, in time, but the more folks who know our language, the more included both my children and I will feel here.

She pondered repeating her question but didn’t want to seem pushy. Now that she’d surfaced from her depressive well, Towhee was itching to be productive, preferably in a way that served her new pack. She couldn’t hunt very well, though she was always willing to try. And of course she was always happy to babysit.

She supposed she could offer to train warriors too, though she was a little hesitant on that front. For one thing, Moonspear didn’t really seem like it needed too many fighters. Between its size and its alliances, nobody could really mess with them. For another, the Redhawk felt like the time had come for her to retire, for real and for good.