Bearclaw Valley if he fell in love

at his ptero, towhee grins, a soft flush warming her cheeks. -strong like you.- towhee counters in ptero, paws tracing the air; more fluid now than the clunky ( for her ) slowed version she used when teaching. though, she supposed, she was always teaching it and would be teaching it to their children in a handful of months, knowing it would be some time before they were old enough to start learning but if how much bushtit had grown in the months she'd been separated from her mother and younger brother it would go by fast.

-but maybe only some of my fire.- towhee says with a sheepish grin. -my fire has burned even myself before.-

there was a distinct line between being wary and protective and hostility and towhee'd always leaned towards the latter.

especially so when she was younger.

-do you have a last name? the children and i will call it our's, if you do.-