Bramblepoint diortosire

From somewhere out in the darkness, a feminine voice commanded, “Show yourself. Step into the light!” Towhee, of course, didn’t hear it.

But she stopped suddenly, hissing through her teeth as pain lanced through her leg. It wasn’t the same leg, nor the same kind of pain. Towhee raised her right foreleg and squinted at the deep scratch on the lump beside her dewclaw. She had a few of those—soft knots of fatty tissue called lipomas, not that she knew that term—littered across her aging body. None ever bothered her, though a sharp twig had just flayed this one open.

Rolling her eyes at her luck, Towhee ducked her head to lick gently at the wound.