The Sunspire Muscle car.

“Towhee,” a worried Reyson wanted to know, “are you okay?”

SHITTING FUCK, she bellowed in reply.

Her teeth clenched nearly to the breaking point half a second later as Towhee hissed in a breath and sidestepped the offending branch. Her whole back lit up like the world’s worst sunburn. She didn’t think it was possible that it hurt more now than the day the cat had clawed her, yet Towhee might have bet that coin she didn’t possess.

Furthermore, she could feel the warm sensation of blood as it welled in the broken skin and began seeping into the fur along the wound. Knowing herself too well—she was highly likely to swoon any moment—Towhee practically gritted her teeth to dust as she tried to think on her unsteady feet.

Can— she tried to say, only to break off because of the pain. Can you—ah, fuck. Towhee spat, not just because it hurt so horribly but because she needed to make a split second decision. Take me—ah!—to the vale, she gasped, and maybe call for that friend of yours.