Honeyed Pasture agamemnon returned to his wife

towhee allows herself this moment — sequestered, private ( or so she thought! ) — to lose herself to her grief. she had felt grief before ... but never quite to this magnitude. this threatens to crush her lungs to join her heart already left in the rubble of bearclaw valley. would it not have been for tzar, she might've been inclined to let herself waste away in the rubble until she, too, joined them.

the hairs at her nape prickle and tzar stirs. towhee had not been aware if her children would be like her: deaf and mute ... but she watches his face with intensity as he tries to peer 'round her clearly noting something that she cannot.

her head whips in the direction, unfolding out of her grief as she rises to her paws; lips curling back over her teeth, shoving tzar behind her front legs — her stance protective. aggressive. her gaze searches until it lands upon the stranger. unwilling to let her son be translator for her, towhee relies upon her body language: friend or foe?