Sun Mote Copse Magicicada septendecula.

Uncanny valley, Towhee thought as she gazed down at Skipjack, who looked right back at her. Perhaps it was a mean thing to think of her own grandson—and she wouldn’t dare say it aloud—but the way his big blue eyes didn’t actually focus on her face was pretty creepy sometimes.

-“Quit it,”- she said, albeit with affection, reaching out her right forepaw to nudge the boy’s cheek.

“Quit!” Skipjack retorted, swiping at her paw.

-“Anyway,”- Towhee said, trying to ignore his dead stare, -“this is Narwhal’s Respite. And I don’t know why I’m signing…”- she suddenly realized, forelimbs dropping limply.

“QUIT, GAMMA!” the boy shouted, the words unmistakable on his little lips.

Towhee burst into a loud laughing, saying, Apropos. Want to get your feet wet, you turd?

Of course he did. She nudged him in the direction of the nearby stream, keeping a careful eye on Skipjack as he splashed in the shallows. Towhee remained on the bank, partly shaded by a pretty Pacific dogwood.