Redhawk Caldera The monsters are here.

She couldn’t help but feel a little intrusive, though the Redhawks seemed to welcome her presence and Pie would not miss this for the world. It was a blessing unlike any other to share Towhee’s space during this sacred ritual, to bear witness as her little relatives came into the world and bestowed upon Towhee the title of anaa once more.

It was her honor to rustle up some nourishing food for the Elder, who dozed with her aged body curled around the neonates. Treepie gently brushed the top of the matriarch’s head to wake her, although her eyes were fixed upon the puppies. There were four, each small and utterly perfect.

Towhee needed to step outside momentarily, leaving her pups in the other wolves’ collective care. Tiuttuk didn’t dare touch them, though she continued to stare, fascinated and enamored. A profound feeling welled within her, further solidifying the foundation of an already steadfast dream: one day, she would bear her own children.

When the Elder returned just to discover something was amiss with one of the newborns, it stunned Pie. She shrank back as the atmosphere inside the Hobbit Hole shifted, now tinged with grief. Everyone mourned the startling loss, herself included, but the yearling knew these things just happened sometimes.

The day drew to a close. Treepie folded herself down beside her taataa, still facing Towhee and her brood. She could hardly wait to take this news back to Dawnspear, though at the same time, she never wanted to leave. She would savor this familial, multigenerational feeling for as long as she could, then carry it home with her.