Storm Watch Butte A little party never killed nobody.

They had no choice but to wait and see if anyone would respond to their summons. In the meantime, Towhee watched as Soto impatiently grabbed the pelt and thrust it at their feet. Rude, she thought, though there was no real heat to it. They were both in the same predicament.

Before she could think of anything to do or say, Bushtit took the opportunity to sniff at the proffered skin, then step onto it. He circled thrice, then sprawled on it. Towhee didn’t hear the sigh, though she saw it. Her head cocked in mild amusement as his eyes visibly drooped.

She glanced at Soto, wondering what he might be thinking. A realization crept into her own thoughts, her orange eyes growing speculative. Towhee only looked away to check on Bushtit—conked out, now—before her gaze fixed on the man’s features.

-He’s your son, you know,- she told him, well aware that he wouldn’t understand the Ptero. Stepping nearer, she hisspered the exact same phrase into his ear, knowing he wouldn’t understand a word of that either.