Sun Mote Copse Dance of the sugar plum fairy.

She succeeded in her maneuver, only to knock the wind out of herself a second time due to the way she landed. Huffing and puffing like she'd smoked a pack a day for fifty years, Towhee rolled away from Penn's scrabbling limbs, though not before taking a solid kick to her bad thigh. Towhee groaned and winced, though she could hardly blame him. She'd started it.

And she'd done that to distract him from whatever might be afflicting his prodigal sister. Towhee eventually regained her breath and crawled into an upright position, orange eyes momentarily straying to the nearby den. There was no sign of Sugar or the other residents, so presumably some sort of reunion was still taking place indoors. Her brow furrowed. Whose blood? she thought again, though that thought was eclipsed by the mental image of what Finley's face must've looked like when Sugar had set foot inside the den.

That thought made her lips twitch into a smile. All the while, she hovered there like a sphinx, leaving herself wide open to another attack from Penn.