Redhawk Caldera And nobody cries, there’s only butterflies.

Amalia strode into view, the wind blustering her scent into Towhee’s nose as she came closer. It smelled as though her season was winding down now. She debated just how frank she could be with Killdeer’s woman. She didn’t need the gory details—didn’t want them, either—but of course she wanted to know if those two had stretched out their own branch of the family tree, soon to blossom with little Redhawks.

How are you? Is everything okay here? Towhee said by way of greeting, reaching out to sniff noses with Amalia. I smell another dude, she tacked on, fire flashing in her eyes. Did he come here to bother you? Do I have to kill anybody?