Bramblepoint There's a new sheriff in town.

A great wind shook the trees as Towhee entered the forest in the early hours of the morning. Although she had been distracted by the appearance of an interloper the previous day, she had found herself wondering about the hawk and its fate. She saw no sign of it as she moved slowly through the trees, which were rocking wildly as their colorful leaves were stripped from their shaking boughs. Perhaps it hadn't been hurt, after all, and had flown somewhere far away.

When she struck the scent of a rabbit, Towhee shifted her attention to the hunt. She wasn't the best trapper, yet she somehow managed to nab the hare. It was a fat one too. She carried the chunky carcass to a patch of yellowing grass and stretched out to enjoy her repast, the noises of her eating drowned out by the wind that continued to gust through the trees—not that Towhee was aware of either sound.

She was halfway through the rabbit, her muzzle slathered with gore, when her orange eyes lifted to find the hawk perched on a mossy log directly in front of her, perhaps five yards away. Towhee blinked and raised her head even more, licking her chops. She and the hawk regarded one another for several long minutes, during which she observed its wing; it was definitely broken. Her head tilted slightly as she watched the wind ruffle the raptor's reddish brown feathers before finally blowing so hard that the hawk was forced unceremoniously from its perch.

It managed to stay upright, just barely, but looked rather rumpled as it stood there on the forest floor, blinking even as leaves swirled around it. Feeling intrigued by this avian hunter, Towhee slowly pushed herself upright. Keeping her orange eyes on the bird, she snatched a lump of meat from her kill, then tossed it toward the hawk. She half-expected it to, at best, ignore the meat or, at worst, flee as it had done yesterday. However, the hawk straightened up and, after a deliberative moment, leaped forward and snatched the morsel off the ground and quickly gobbled it. It then turned its head, beak partially open as if begging for more.

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Several hours later—dusk was starting to cloak the land—Towhee finally began making her way back toward the caldera, moving quite painstakingly slowly due to the red-tailed hawk perched precariously between her shoulder blades.

Alya had the vague notion that she was not supposed to be out alone, but surely Brambelpoint wasn't too far from home? Her sisters would know if something was wrong, and besides, being confined to Moonspear rankled her like nothing else. She travelled through the trees on a warpath, grumbling to herself about the unfairness of life and those Blackfeather fuckers as she went.

Until a familiar scent reached her nose. Not someone she'd met before, but someone who Hydra had spoken of, on occassion. Curious to finally meet the mysterious Redhawk girl, Alya followed the scent and - conscious of the disability Hydra had spoken of - made a wide arc so that she could approach Towhee head-on.

Finally, she moved from between the trees and caught sight of the dark shewolf, only to stop short at the odd sight that greeted her. What was going on here?

She had barely emerged from the edge of Bramblepoint when claws sank into her back. "Ow, ow!" she cried loudly, arching her neck around to peer (more like glare) at the hawk astride her back. "Wh—" she began to ask it when she saw the bird turning its head hither and thither, clearly peering sharply at something off to their right. Towhee's ears slipped backward as she whipped her head around, squinting through the gathering dark.

"Hydra?" she called, orange eyes widening slightly. Even through the gloom, she could see the surprised and incredulous look on her companion's face. "I found it—him?—here in Bramblepoint. His wing's broken. I'm taking him home so my sister can take a look at it." She paused, then added a little regretfully, "Don't come too close. It took me all day to gain his trust and I don't want him to get scared off again..."

Alya surely knew that Hydra was following her when she left the territory. She sensed it, and just like that her own plans for the day shifted. In knowing, now, that the wolves of the Woods sought to take others unwillingly into their hold, she did not think her sisters would think of departing without expressly saying so, at least. If there was any wolf that harm could not come to, it was Alya, it was Lyra! Hydra would decimate any who lay a single tooth upon her sisters with ill intent. 

The garbled voice of Towhee came through the brush. She had not seen her sister respectfully ensure that she did not surprise her friend—and remembered that Towhee did not know that there were three of her, so to speak. Hydra emerged from the woods, catching only the tail-end of what was said. Seeing it for herself, though, was another matter entirely. 

Woah, she started with, glancing to Alya before looking back to Towhee. But why? After all, valley critters rarely served them except for the meat on their bones. Predatorily, Hydra could only see the benefit of the hawks broken wing—but she respected Towhee's claim on it.

"Alya, actually," the girl corrected, remembering to speak very clearly so that Towhee would know what she was saying. How weird, not to be able to hear! Hydra soon materialized beside her, illustrating the point, and was quick to agree with Alya's mental assessment of the situation. Woah just about summed it up - Alya didn't think the why needed to be added.

"Because it's amazing, that's why," she explained, bumping her hip against Hydra's. "Maybe she can heal it and send messages with it! Or have it bring her food! Or have it spy on people for her! Or just look totally badass with it sitting on her back!"

Alya couldn't tear her eyes away from that bird. She wondered if she could use her new friend-making skills to get one of her own.

She did not understand the correction, not even when Hydra's carbon copy appeared beside her. Towhee started—the hawk's talons pinched into her skin—and stared. The two lookalikes conversed amiably with one another as Towhee gaped. It only took about five seconds for her to realize she was looking at a set of twins, though even when she wracked her brain, she couldn't remember if Hydra had ever mentioned it before.

"You're twins?" she asked a bit stupidly, feeling more than a little caught off guard. She hadn't caught Alya's suggestions for utilizing the hawk, though she tried to quell her disconcerted feelings to address the topic at hand. "I found him in Bramblepoint and he seems to have taken to me," she explained as both Hydra and Alya were staring at the bird. "Maybe because I fed him," she added, resisting the urge to shrug in case she unseated him. "Anyway, his wing's broken and I'm going to take him to see Raven, who's a really good medic. He's a red hawk, after all," she finished, a sort of determinedly defensive look on her face.

The shock that Towhee expressed was met with a simple nod. She supposed it must be surprising to see two of the very same thing before you—there was no difference between the sisters, after all, down to the notch on their ear. There's another, too, Lyra, she shared then. She did not think that this needed to be said, but because Towhee seemed so thrown off by it and Hydra did care about the other, she shared it for her benefit. Triplets. Her tail waved as she looked to Alya fondly. Lyra and Alya were Hydra's first love—since utero.

But she looked back to her friend when she began to speak. Alya's own suggestions were not lost on her—she had always been clever. Hydra could definitely see the use. And that he was a red hawk was relevant, too. Towhee was quite intelligent and clever herself—Hydra hardly knew a yellowjacket from a bumble bee. Meat was meat. But now, her perspective shifted some. Towhee had a way of doing that.

It is pretty amazing, she verbally agreed with her sister, It would be cool if Raven could heal it. Do you think it—he—would stick around after? Hydra's tail waved. It'd be cool to have an extra set of eyes—eyes in the sky, she did not even think about the ears aspect of it; Towhee had proven fully capable without the sense of hearing, and Hydra did not think it necessary, though she appreciating having the sense herself. Hydra wanted something like that for herself. It did look pretty cool.

Alya kept one ear tracking the conversation, but most of her attention was pinned - avidly - on the creature that sat upon Towhee's back. The Redhawks' daughter was certainly on to something with this bird-friend idea, and Alya planned to get in on it as soon as she possible could. Not with a weird colorful bird, but perhaps with one of the crows or grackles that often fed on Moonspear's leftovers.

(Little did she know, the Magic of Friendship (read: manipulation) did not really work on birds.)

"What are you going to call it?" Alya asked, her voice coming out kind of dumb since she was trying very hard to visibly enunciate and was also - inadvertently - speaking rather loudly. Probably, she was exaggerating a little too much and only making her words harder to read.

They were both curious and full of questions. Towhee's orange eyes bounced between them like someone watching a tennis match. She had a much easier time understanding Hydra than Alya, which made a lot of sense. She wondered if she shouldn't feel so quickly accepting of Hydra's twin, though it was hard to think of ostracizing her as she usually did to unfamiliar outsiders. It was like she wasn't a stranger at all, not with the resemblance...

"I had a twin too," Towhee randomly shared with them, "but he died when we were little." But they didn't care about Oriole, they were focused on the hawk. "I have no idea," she replied broadly to all of their inquiries (the ones she'd caught, anyway), once more resisting the urge to shrug. "I guess I'll have to wait and see." In the coming days, she would come up with a dozen possible uses for a trained hawk, yet for now, Towhee hadn't given it much thought yet.

"I should get him back to Rave before nightfall," Towhee said, trying to hold still as the hawk shifted his weight, his talons clutching the skin between her shoulder blades. "I'm sure we'll see one another soon," she added, fiery gaze fixing on Hydra as a tight smile twitched her lips. The two of them tended to run into one another a lot, and there was so much to discuss lately considering their common enemy. "Good night, Hydra... Alya." With a dip of her snout, Towhee continued carefully picking her way home.

That Towhee had had a twin was not something known to Hydra. To hear the words spoken was heartbreaking for Hydra to even consider happening to her, and so she did not. I am sorry, she responded lowly, her condolences deep. To be deprived of ones soulmate... Towhee had a half of her missing that she was not even aware of. It was best that way. Without Alya or Lyra near, Hydra was not her whole self. They, together, were one.

Hydra looked forward to seeing what would happen with this bird, anyhow. When Towhee made to depart, Hydra nodded. Then she looked to Alya. We have to find ourselves some, she declared. They were essential to their aesthetic, now. What's the toughest bird out there? She inquired, wanting that one for herself (naturally).

"We do," Alya agreed, watching Towhee's retreating form rather hungrily. To the dark girl's second question, however, Alya had no answer. She gave a mute shrug, indicating that they were better off seeking the information from some other source. Their mother, perhaps. "We should probably have black birds," she told her sister, sharing her own thoughts on the subject. "It would be more stylish."

That was the important thing, after all.

At Alya's recommendation, Hydra nodded her head. After all, why not? It'd look good. But it would need to be tough—that was essential. Hydra's tail lashed in a mute command (let's go) as she turned around and headed back toward Moonspear.