Redhawk Caldera Who needs vanilla when you have me.

She didn’t hear Hotah’s approaching footfalls. Towhee only lifted her head and turned around out of impatience, her eyes clapping on his figure right in time to catch, “—for you, Elder, I’ll see what I can do.” They squinted.

Don’t call me that, it makes me sound old, Towhee said dryly, gazing up at him as Hotah came to stand over her. When he remarked about her crust, her nose wrinkled and she repeated her earlier, Ew, what the fuck?

A small part of her was pleased at the flattery, though. Towhee imagined she looked a bit like a crusty, fat grandmother. But she didn’t feel that way, not really. If anything, this pregnancy enervated her… even if it also made her hungry as hell.

Don’t just stand there, she griped, eyes dancing. Find me something to eat, old man.

She hoped he appreciated the joke. Hotah couldn’t be a day over four, of course, but it was Towhee’s way of nodding to his relationship with the babes bulging her belly and demanding to be fed.