Flycatcher Downs a stunning dress of hellfire

towhee watches as he gestures to himself and offers his name.

cole.

an easy enough name to translate into ptero, she thinks. not that it really matters in the moment. when confronted with wolves that did not know her or her mother — which seemed rare these days, seasoned traveller as the OG towhee was — and did not know ptero she has been gifted many names. none of them she minded. all uniquely her.

unfortunately, as she assumes cole is in this boat, he is gifted with the task of giving her a name himself.

she offers a sheepish, almost apologetic grimace; unable to even gesture to anything remotely similar to her name.

ghost rides the calm wind overhead, circling; always keeps towhee in his dark, raptorial gaze; mangled talon tucked close to his belly.

she ghosts a few steps nearer, muzzle lifting slightly as she takes in the smells on cole's pelt ( careful not to invade his personal space, though; stranger danger still takes forefront in towhee's mind always ), a few of which holds an errant sort of familiarity of a home once shared.

this excites her, tail giving a few wags behind her, hoping to communicate that she harbored some familiarity from the pack he ran with.