Redhawk Caldera Macabre midnight.

She supposed words—signed or spoken—weren’t really necessary. It was pretty clear she’d taken a bad spill. Towhee grimaced, grunting assent at his first question and making no reply to his second. Now that she felt steady on her feet, she was too busy raising a foreleg to wipe the blood from her mouth… and discovering the tender abrasion on her bristled chin.

Way, the Elder slurred, before resorting to Ptero again. -Can you pick that up? I don’t want it to go to waste.- She pointed a toe at the catfish. -Then, yeah, let’s make our way to the Hobbit Hole.-

As she winced and prepared to shuffle after Cinar, Towhee let out a wet breath. She might have a mouthful of blood and a mangled tongue, though she hadn’t broken any teeth. And although it was a shitty way to end an otherwise wonderful day, she was kind of glad her face had taken the brunt of it.

Hope you enjoy your iron infusion, Towhee thought toward the babes tucked safe and sound in her distended midsection.