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She nodded softly. Gift and decapitated head hardly seemed like two words that should go together. Yet it seemed awfully nice to leave any kind of meat on their doorstep right before the cold would sweep in. Who were they to look that gift horse in the mouth?

Then came the flood of knowledge.

Soto, a leader — and also a father. To Bushtit. A son of Towhee's who she had indeed — and shook her head to confirm — not met yet.

Would he come visit? She inquired genuinely. Not understanding if that might have been a social faux pas to ask, given that the kid was away doing his own thing. You have good family. Would be nice to see more. She tacked on with a toothy grin.

It seemed the both of them were content to pass over whatever omen the gifted head could have been.