Totoka River Seidsongen, lint den lokkar hug or ham.

The instant she lifted her paw and crooked her wrist, the stranger’s face lit up like the recent sunrise. Encouraged by this friendly gesture, she closed the gap between them. Towhee pushed onto all fours to receive her, curious about the svelte stranger whose shift in expression now brought to mind her grandson, Stingray.

-“Hi,”- she offered when the woman came to a stop a short distance away. -“Do you live around here? I’m Towhee.”-

She didn’t bother adding a surname. Maybe it was narcissistic but she knew the Redhawk name was somewhat renowned and she didn’t feel like butting up against any preconceived notions on this pleasant June morning. For the moment, she wasn’t “mother of many Redhawks,” as Sialuk called her. She was just Towhee.