Storm Watch Butte A little party never killed nobody.

The name evoked recognition, at least. Soto said something, his inflection heard only by the silent boy at her side. Neither one of them could understand a single word he said.

Towhee looked at her son, desperate for a translation. He only looked back in confusion. Then his face scrunched. She kept staring, watching as he appeared to work out something in his head.

-Think he said “visitor.” Maybe he’s asking if we’re here to visit her?-

Yes! she exclaimed, eyes darting back to Soto. We’re here to visit Tierra. Can you take us to her? Or can you call for her, at least?

Without being aware of it, Towhee shuffled a few paces closer. She only realized when she felt Bushtit brushing against her. She glanced at him, then looked at Soto again, the closer proximity affording her a more comprehensive view of his facial expressions and body language.

She could also smell him much better now, his masculine scent threading into her nose and stirring strong memories of their tryst. It had been so delightful and it had given her one of life’s greatest gifts: a child.

She’d seen the way he’d looked at Bushtit, just like “Ditty” had during their visit to the plateau. Only this man was, without a doubt, his father. Did he guess as much? Did he care? If she tried to tell him, would he even understand?