Redhawk Caldera Event horizon.

The spotty vision made lipreading pretty difficult, especially in the low light. Towhee wasn’t sure if she missed a word here or there or if Trailhawk simply neglected to use proper sentences. It didn’t much matter to her, as she did what she always did: pieced together context clues to glean the other’s meaning.

I would’ve said wonderful, a few days ago, Towhee replied, biting the lower lip that wobbled against her will. She steadied herself with a breath before continuing, The wolf I asked you about, he’s my grandson. His mate just had a litter about a month ago. He went out hunting the other day and just… never came home.

Her chest tightened as Towhee once more relived her feelings over losing Maxim. Was the same nightmare scenario playing out now? For Mal’s sake—and the kids’, her own too—she desperately hoped history wasn’t repeating itself. How long had her mate been gone before she’d concluded that the only possible answer was death?

She shoved that thought away and said to Trailhawk, I’d give you the recruitment spiel but I don’t have it in me right now, sorry. It’s not a good time. But if you’re looking… we could use the help. Towhee paused, tears pricking her aching eyes as lightning cleaved the sky in perfect rapport with the vibrato. Especially right now.