Redhawk Caldera And my cuts have healed with time

Fennec seemed to brush off the question, which gave Towhee momentary pause. But two seconds later, her daughter tossed her hat into the ring for Regency. The Sovereign's insides relaxed. Maybe she was simply nervous about volunteering as tribute. Towhee couldn't imagine why, not when her daughter was typically confident to a fault, but she was too relieved to look too closely at it.

The mention of Fig made her think briefly of her eldest son. She missed him a lot and hoped he might come back someday. She felt that way about a lot of people lately, it seemed. Quite abruptly, she remembered making jokes about raising the newest pups with the intention to get them to disperse, simply to get ahead of the inevitable. Her orange gaze shifted sideways to where the kids played and Towhee surprised herself a little by thinking she might actually be totally okay with that plan.

Oh, man. Blinking, she refocused her attention on the conversation at hand. "Yeah, we talked about it a while back. I didn't know if you'd be interested but I'm glad to hear you are. I think you'd be great at it." There was something poetic about the idea of the caldera being ruled by the blind and deaf. Was that slight vibration underfoot the children playing or Fox spinning in her grave?

"Not that I doubt your motives or anything but I'd ask this of anyone: why are you interested? What do you think you bring to the table? It's a lot of work, though there's perks too, like making people do your bidding and, I guess, breeding privileges. Between you and me, I may not exercise that right after this year, so the Regents might have first dibs..."