Storm Watch Butte A little party never killed nobody.

When she slid backward a moment later, she saw someone ranging closer: a slender, silver she-wolf with pale eyes. Towhee immediately stepped closer to her sleeping son, hovering protectively as the woman flanked Soto. And spoke words Towhee could actually understand.

Oh, thank fuck, the Redhawk mumbled, too loudly for polite company. Towhee, she said a little more loudly, though she made an effort to keep her voice low out of consideration for, Bushtit.

He didn’t stir when she motioned at him, save a single flick of an ear. Towhee stared for a beat, then returned her gaze to Soto and Fiamma just in time to see her say something to him, presumably in his foreign language. He kept saying something that read like “anger,” only with an extra letter.

We’re here to see Tierra, my daughter, Towhee cut in before Fiamma could even translate. Do you know her? Is she here?