Sun Mote Copse rancho mirage

She pushed upright too, watching as Skipjack played a little game of soccer with the pine cone before facing her again. Towhee glanced at the sky, then down at his sweet little face. She reached out and patted him on the head, then tugged at one of his ears.

Remember, count as high as you can go, then come after me, she said, beginning to turn. If you can’t find your way, just park it. I’ll come back for you if you don’t turn up at The Taigh in a reasonable time frame. Or if it starts pouring, she amended with a third skyward glance.

Without further preamble, Towhee began trotting west toward the cottage. She deliberately dragged her feet a little, to maximize her scent trail. She glanced back over her shoulder and considered keeping him in sight—especially as she wouldn’t be able to hear him, should Skip cry out for help for any reason—but the route was so direct and short, she had faith he could do it.

Chewing the inside of her cheek only a little, she faced forward and hastened her step, soon arriving at the snarl of tree roots that marked the communal dwelling.