Sun Mote Copse a stick, a stone; it's the end of the road

Towhee’s ears fell a little when Killdeer said Caracal was so much more than his stint on the island. He was right, of course, but she stared a little forlornly at the seashell. She trusted her grandson could come up with something more suitable.

I’d like that, she said, adding, C’mere, when another wave of grief broke over his head. Tugging him into a side hug, Towhee told him, You should stay here, for the day, at least. We can reminisce about him, if you want. I’d also love to hear all about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.