Redhawk Caldera Yeah, I reckon we were heathens

Hotah heard the quiet oh—felt it, really, in the way her hands slowed and her focus dipped inward. He worked another strip of hide loose before glancing back toward her, catching that confusion written plain across her face.

He nudged her shoulder again, lighter this time, enough to pull her attention without demanding it.

Then he signed, -Towhee… talks about you.-

Another sign, clearer: -A lot.-

The corner of his mouth tugged up—not teasing, not pitying, just warm. He looked at her with the same quiet sincerity he always offered her mother, but softer around the edges.

He signed again, adding with intention:

-Good things.-

His eyes flickered over her expression, reading the way she held that hock like an anchor.

-She proud.-