Deepwood Weald A bar song (tipsy).

The crass language made him laugh, as did Towhee's backpedaling where her rock choices were concerned — albeit to a lesser degree. They had almost more than he could comfortably carry anyway, and he told her so while he helped pick out the less suitable rocks.

"Ah," he said, just a little uncomfortable, -"A complicated question. I would say four. More or less. The tribe they were born into does not recognize paternal lineage. 'Father' is only a nickname, there. I love them dearly, but I was discouraged from being a more active parent, and our relationship suffered for it. Older and wiser? I wish I would have pushed back harder against those values."-

It was a long speech to translate, and his efforts to use ptero were interrupted frequently by the task at hand. He flashed her a sad, somewhat sheepish smile and returned the question:

"How many do you have?"