Flycatcher Downs a stunning dress of hellfire

a stranger approaches, tall, broad and handsome cloaked in a pelage the color of earth: honey, sands and virile soil. but that does not entirely absolve towhee of the knee-jerk reaction of 'stranger danger'. he begun speaking to her, she notes upon his approach but she missed some of his words, the distance too far for her to lip read.

left ear, notched in several places from ghost's repeated nipping over the year twitches; a subconscious gesture. still, towhee's world is ever silent.

assuming that he does not know ptero — a default assumption of her's to be sure — leaves her with an understanding of his question read from his lips but no real way to answer it.

not exactly known for her creativity, towhee is temporarily stumped. her hesitation lingers in her shoulders, before she lets out a low, near inaudible huff and offers a nod of her head which she supposes, since there were two questions in one: it's up to him to decipher which she meant 'yes' to.