Bramblepoint diortosire

As much as she liked Hemera so far, distaste—and pain—flickered in Towhee’s eyes when she said the word “devout.” Towhee hadn’t even realized how much she’d come to loathe such manner of things until his very moment, as agony and disgust mixed together, a dangerous cocktail that made her teeth grit and her chest tighten.

Please don’t, Towhee said flatly when Hemera offered to pray for her grandson. That bullshit took my son from me and tore apart an entire family, was the only explanation she offered for her sudden shift in tone and demeanor. I don’t want it anywhere near me or my loved ones. On that note, steer clear of the caldera.

Towhee whipped her paw out of the chilly rapids, flicked it a few times, and turned away with a pinched expression. She didn’t thank Hemera, nor say goodbye, and she would likely feel a bit like an asshole for that later. She had been nothing but kind, really. But all she could think of as she stalked away through the dark was listening to her devout son’s final heartbeat.