Redhawk Caldera Yeah, I reckon we were heathens

what was meant to be a glimpse towards the best cuts of deer meat ended up being a longer stare; a thousand yard stare. towhee jr was physically there but mentally a lifetime away. something stirs in her chest, stutters her breath in her throat. a strange mixture of happiness that her mother had found a man as good as hotah — because he was a good man, she'd seen it before but knows it now without question — and a grave ache of sadness.

ears rest at half mast, a slip of the mask, the small twitch of her lips upwards holding shape for her profound sorrow before she looks away, back to the carcass they worked on.

she couldn't quite bring herself to look to hotah.

-i'm glad my mom has you.- she is earnest in this as she signs the words in ptero, gaze locked on the hock she would tend to as she begin to tear at it.

she'd become familiar with sitting with the strange mixture of joy and sadness, two things that somehow melded together despite that they should mix like oil and water. she felt it every time she celebrated tzar's accomplishments: happiness that she got to watch him grow and witness his wins, his progress, his shaping into a young man and grief that that her other three children knew only a brief life before death had stolen them from her.

-she deserves a good man.- she finishes, still not quite looking to hotah before turning back to her task.