Dahozhoni Meadow (M) Twice told tales.

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She found herself in another meadow, this one rather different from the first (and not just because it lacked a sexually repressed young man trying to slut shame her, or whatever he had been doing). There were still flowers here. As Towhee wandered among the colorful array of blooms and brush, she tried to come up with a profound metaphor about her fertility in comparison to a meadow in the desert.

Towhee ducked her head and snorted. The slightly warmer air here felt good on her skin, a complement to the inner heat. It put her urges into overdrive, especially since it had been more than a day since she’d gotten laid. She raised her head again, orange eyes scanning the flat horizons for any sign of a male, preferably a capable and interested one this time.

Her tail lashed. It really bugged her her that she’d only coupled with a single man. Towhee didn’t necessarily want to collect notches on her bedpost and she didn’t even worry that more partners meant more chances of conceiving successfully. She just didn’t want him to be her one and only. Towhee didn’t want to know who’d fathered any pups that came of this.

Come on, she rumbled impatiently to herself, treading closer to the corner of the meadow, back toward Great Bear.