Sun Mote Copse Everybody hates Monday mornings.

She was still reeling from the deaths of her godparents and the huge, ragged hole blown in the Firebirds' honorary ranks, not to mention her heart. Towhee knew it would take quite a while to come to terms with the sheer magnitude of this loss, of living in a world forever absent of Elwood and Finley. Her heart ached deeply for the grandparents Meerkat would never know, much less remember, and sometimes she bitterly wondered if it was better this way.

Her baby provided a wonderful distraction in otherwise deeply bleak times. She was now three weeks old, with mostly steady sea legs, floppy ears and an appetite for regurgitated meat. She was growing and developing so quickly it kind of gave Towhee whiplash. Today, she tried to keep her mind focused solely on the pup, pushing down her grief and simultaneously trying to slow down time as the sprightly youngster scooted around the log's interior.

To give the puppy more room to play, Towhee stepped out of the small space. She should've known that Meerkat wouldn't be content being left alone, even with her mother just outside. The Regent just barely managed to catch the pup as she tumbled over the log's lip. Instead of putting her back inside, Towhee gently lowered the child to the grass, orange eyes crinkling at the edges as Meerkat promptly began rubbing her face in it.