Sun Mote Copse Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society…

Someone she didn’t recognize very well approached The Taigh, which caused the fur all down her spine to prickle a little. This must be Rhone, she realized, trying to coax herself to relax. He was paler than either of his parents, his coloration actually reminding her of Meerkat. That comparison helped put her at ease.

His lips moved, though Towhee didn’t quite catch what he said. Before she could ask him to repeat himself, she felt Bushtit unlatch. Her eyes dropped to see his mouth move, though there was no way Towhee could pick up on his babyish babbling.

She could only watch as he toddled over to his bassinet—flattened now into more of a proper blanket—and settled down to sleep off his breakfast. Towhee arched a brow at his kiss, then returned her attention to the yearling.

Hey, you’re Rhone, right? I’m Towhee. And that little goblin is Bushtit. It’s nice to put a face to the name. Anyway, what’re you up to?