Wheeling Gull Isle Revenge of the orchestra.

By the time Towhee felt ready to leave Moonspear again, it was far too late to catch up with @Phox. Nevertheless, she walked eastward until she approached Greatwater Lake. Hoping he was within earshot, she howled with all her might to let him know her location. She was overdue for a visit to the island and welcomed Phox to join her, though she’d understand if he hung back. They could rendezvous afterward.

She trekked along the riverbank toward the coast. Towhee hadn’t forgotten @Dinah’s request. She only wished she could’ve brought @Orca II and @Seal with her this time. But the latter was still on the mend and Towhee wouldn’t dare bring one without the other. There would be another time for the cousins to meet.

Towhee howled again, this time announcing her presence to the wolves of Sweetharbor and her intention to visit just for the day. She didn’t wait for anyone to show up before she started moseying across the land bridge. The tide was rising and she didn’t want to miss her window.

If there was anything to restore the ever-ebbing faith Dinah had in God, it was the familiar, mildly tone-deaf howl of; GRAMMA!
The instant the song hit her batty little ears, she darted as fast as she could from where she'd been near the lion's den. In her jaws was a pristine white aster; the perfect gift! All the way across the island in a feverish dash, tail thumping in a stuttering ectatic flail, a trail of divots in the sand behind her. Right up to the land bridge, absolutely ignorant of anything in her way—
Dinah makes contact with Great Mount Towhee in a flurry of sunburst fur, leaping up and sweeping her into a profound embrace with arms much longer and stronger than when they'd last done so.

Someone came rushing toward her. Towhee smiled, then grunted when Dinah made impact. She stumbled backward as the grown girl reared up and slung her forelegs around Towhee’s neck. Planting her hind feet, Towhee brought one of her own forelegs around Dinah’s ribs in a loose hug before she gently pushed apart.

Wow, Caracal, you look… different, Towhee said, giving Dinah an elevator eyes appraisal. I guess you’ve always been sort of girly… She snorted, then gave up the joke as she asked, How’re you, Tina? And how’s Sweetharbor?

You'd think she'd be able to tell her son from his own spawn! Are you going senile? Dinah snorts, reeling away from the elder Redhawk; but not without a playful push to her shoulder first. Dinah. Dee-nuh. There's a 'Dee' in there.
She motions for her to follow the rest of the way up the landbridge, a wriggle to her hips as she darts ahead. We've been... okay, she wasn't quite sure how much detail she should go into. Gramma Towhee wouldn't tattle on her, would she? Her eyes flit to the tide that laps against her ankles. We have some new members. Like John, and, um, some other guy named Whisker, I think. You haven't met 'em, have you?

Lil’ bit, Towhee rejoined when accused of senility, a smirk on her face. Oh, there’s a D in there, huh? That’s what she said, Tina.

Dinah motioned for her to proceed to the island, so she resumed her leisurely stroll. She certainly moved much slower than her sprightly granddaughter. Towhee admired the beautiful young girl, so strikingly similar to her father, and didn’t catch the response to her question.

But she caught up to her a bit and Towhee could lipread the next few words, something about John and Whisker. She laughed when Dinah asked if she’d met them. When would I have done that? she teased, though only in her head.

Can’t say that I have. I’ve been too busy meandering all over the place. I just came from Moonspear, actually, and I’m wondering how come you’re not roasting me for failing to bring your cousins with me.

Moonspear? Dinah's head quirks, eyes glimmering. Ah, her cousins! She tries to envision what they would look like with the vague idea she had of them. She imagines little mini Towhees; or perhaps they looked more like Dinah! Um, her shoulders tense as her stride slows to a trudge, the banks of sand picking up in depth. they wouldn't like it here, I don't think. Unless her cousins liked being potentially eaten alive by four ink-caped demon children.
I don't know if you'll like John. He talks about God a lot, and he looks at me weird. He tries to be my friend, her ears flick once, twice, and then settle on the sides of her head. A thought crosses her mind — she'd never heard Gramma Towhee talk about God! Her eyes glimmer with a newfound curiosity. Do you know God, Gramma?

Well, that was a bewildering response. Towhee’s lips parted, though before she could press Dinah about what she meant, two things happened. Firstly, Dinah began to complain about John, then question her grandmother about God. Secondly, Batman (the bat, not the superhero) suddenly swooped out of thin air and dropped right on top of her head.

Pretending like she hadn’t noticed, Towhee put on a thoughtful expression and replied, Hmmm. God? No… don’t think so. Never heard of him.

Dinah's jaw falls slack as if she'd been slapped across the face. You don't? And she thinks of what Mama said, about some others on the mainland who do not want to hear about God, who don't know Him. Was Gramma Towhee one of those? Perhaps this would be good practice for her future sermons!
Um, well, her face scrunches deep in thought. God is who created us. Everything, actually. He made the earth! a hopeful smile glimmers across her features. And we show our thanks to Him by praying and singing, n' stuff.
But.
Dinah leads them in the direction of the lavender fields, making a sharp turn as the path before them narrows with winding rocks and ragweed. In the distance, she can see the mangroves.
Gramma, her voice lowers, ears pressed back as her eyes soften with a prickling worry. can I tell you a secret?

Was Dinah just playing along or had she really not seen Batman? Towhee grappled with this as she followed her granddaughter’s lead. Surely any kid her age should be fascinated by their grandmother’s accoutrement. Towhee was kind of offended by Dinah’s seeming lack of interest.

I think you’re old enough to know that not everyone believes in God, she said, refocusing on the conversation at hand. You shouldn’t let anyone else’s beliefs decide yours, including her parents’.  You get to choose what you believe. And it may change over the course of your life, as you get older and experience more things, especially away from the insulation of the island.

Whether or not Dinah could handle the truth remained to be seen. Towhee expected her to burst into tears at any moment. But there was something furtive about her expression instead. Did her grandmother want to hear a secret?

You have to whisper it to my pet bat first, so he can decide whether I can handle it, Towhee replied to see what Dinah would say.

Admittedly, Dinah had been so focused on the questioning of her own beliefs that she had not, in fact, noticed the bat. It seems to meld into the crown of Towhee's head until she blinks once, and then again, and then takes note of the pair of beady eyes.
She is much too busy having her entire worldview crushed into a whirlwind of dust to care.
Her first instinct is to give a retort, to say that God is absolutely real and the ones who do not believe in Him have just not seen His light!
But as her jaw opens to say such, she pauses again.
She leans up on her toes so that she might reach the tiny bat face, eyes marked with the swelling glimmer of tears that she knew not how to keep from coming. Mr. Bat, her voice quivers. I don't think God hears me when I pray to Him.

When Dinah took Towhee’s words at face value and stretched up to make her confession, she hunched slightly to give her a better view of tiny Batman. She could feel him wriggle a bit as the child whispered to him, though of course she couldn’t see him. Anyway, her eyes were fixed on her granddaughter’s lips.

After Dinah was done speaking, Towhee straightened up and mimed conferring with the tiny creature on her forehead. She actually gently nudged Batman to get him to crawl backward and snuggle into his usual hiding spot in the longer fur near her nape. She then cleared her throat and met Dinah’s eyes.

There were a thousand ways Towhee could handle this, though she decided to go the responsible route for once and bent down again to say, This sounds like something you ought to talk to your parents about, though she couldn’t resist having a little bit of fun as she added, Maybe God is just deaf. Have you tried signing when you pray?

Chuckling, she brushed a paw along the little girl’s jaw before straightening again and looking at the island over Dinah’s shoulder. She really hoped to see some of the others. Towhee knew she wouldn’t have time for many prolonged conversations but she still wanted to check in.

Do you guys still live at the den? Maybe we should head for the hills, so we can find your folks. Although we don’t have to be quick or anything. I’m old and my top speed is mosey.

Tell her parents? No, Dinah gives a fervent shake of her head as if doing so would be an absolute cardinal sin. no, no, they can't know. I can't tell them. She can picture it now, the shattering of heart behind Mama's pale eyes, Daddy's cries of anguish over his lost and forsaken child — would they send her away? Banish her; forbid her from leaving or perhaps cast her from her Isle for good? For God's ignorance must be her problem! She hasn't repented enough, prayed enough, she has done something to earn such horrible horrible treatment;
She reels back as the little bat skitters and disappears into the ruff of Towhee's nape. M-maybe he is deaf, like you. I don't know a lot of ptero, though. Do you really think that's why he can't hear me?
She peels further in the opposite direction of the greenhills, tail cowardly tucked at her heels. Lavender, yes, the lavender always made her feel better.
Her little mind races and flutters. Maybe it wasn't her fault. Maybe— no, no, it couldn't be. But?
Gramma, if other people don't know God, what else do they believe?

Towhee didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of this possibility. But when Dinah insisted she didn’t want to tell her parents, she could understand why Dinah resisted that idea. What if they took it poorly? Towhee wanted to think Caracal and Heda would listen with open hearts and minds but there was part of Towhee that worried they might ask her to leave the island if she told her truth. So she got it.

She loped after Dinah when the girl tucked tail and headed away from the family’s homestead. She didn’t catch the question about God’s deafness, which was probably for the best. Towhee was now toying with the idea of risking her son’s and daughter-in-law’s ire by speaking more plainly with Dinah but even she knew it would be pretty cruel to simply tell her, Look, kid, I don’t think he can hear you because he doesn’t exist.

Her granddaughter paused near the edge of the lavenders and this time, Towhee caught the question on her lips. Maybe she could field this one without being too brutally blunt about it. She nodded at Dinah to acknowledge the query, then pointed toward the flowers. She walked past the young girl to seat herself among the fragrant blooms, musing for a moment about the time when Ava and Dinah had contentiously assisted her in gathering bouquets.

The thing is, Towhee started after settling, there are a ton of different belief systems out there and nobody’s is right or wrong. At least, nobody can prove anything. It’s all about believing what makes sense to you, like I said before. There are wolves who believe in one God, like you, and others who say there are many different gods, even goddesses. There are wolves who think you go to heaven or hell when you die, while others say you’re reborn. Et cetera, et cetera.

She paused to take a deep breath. Should she discuss her own beliefs—or lack thereof—and risk rattling Dinah and getting into trouble with Caracal and Heda if it got back to them? Towhee wanted to be honest with her granddaughter without alienating or upsetting her. She squared her ever-whiter shoulders, preparing for tears no matter what.

For instance, I don’t really believe in anything in particular. I’m not gonna sit here and shit on your beliefs. But I don’t hang with God, personally. And I’ve been around a long time, witnessed many, many deaths, and I still don’t know what I think happens afterward. I don’t believe but I don’t necessarily disbelieve. I don’t make any assumptions at all, because it’s all beyond me. That probably doesn’t make much sense but I just live my life how I want and don’t think too much about spiritual stuff.

Dinah, firm believer, or so she thought; Dinah, a humble servant of Christ;
There were others. There was more to the story. The story of Christ was not the only one, for there were, apparently, many more. Dinah thought then of all the possibilities, of all the other deities there could be. And, as her face wrinkles in shock and then contorts to something like betrayal, they seem... fake.
There was no way anyone else could be right, right? Dinah was blessed, christened; her and her brothers and sisters, they had all been brought here by Him! Born of this soil, this sacred Isle, or brought to it by a vessel of Him. They were chosen by Him.
Her worship was all that was known, all that she had on those evenings where the stars were the beacon of His safety and His companionship; trust in Him, she'd been told, and that she did. Or so she thought. His word, His light, His presence was fact—
Her father's voice rings in the back of her head. Faith. What did it mean, to have faith? She had faith in God in the same way she had faith in her father, then, at that time;
And maybe up until now, she hadn't fully realized it, or at least had not admitted it to herself fully, but her faith was slipping slowly and yet violently like sand through a crevice in between crumbling rocks. In her parents, in her family, in—

God.

And to even think it, to question it, to wonder is God real was the most horrific thing Dinah could ever have conjured. Her breath catches deep in her lungs and she holds it there, and the tears come to a quaking halt; not for the lack of wanting to dispel them, but because the shock seems to be preventing it.
What if H-- what if He's, she can't say it. She can't, she can't; Gramma, what if He's not there?
The gates of Hell open wide for her; they creak, and they slam, and they await her arrival.

One glance at Dinah’s face told Towhee that she’d rocked the child’s world. She said nothing, letting the girl process it as her eyes started to glimmer. Uh-oh, Towhee thought, albeit with sympathy, here come the waterworks…

But they didn’t come. Instead, out popped a question. It took Towhee an extra moment to parse it, on account of the lip-quivering and stuttering. But she quickly understood. And there were so, so many ways she could respond to such a question.

What if he is? Towhee countered, perhaps just to be contrarian or maybe to soften the blow or possibly because it was simply a thought-provoking question. You know, even if there isn’t a God out there to dictate your behavior, there’s still merit to some religious teachings. Like be a good person, for instance. In fact, I’d make the argument that being a good person for its own sake and not simply because you wanna get some cool prize in the afterlife is actually much more meaningful.

Was Dinah a good person?
And if she was, did she mean to be, or was it only in pursuit of a great opalescent afterlife; to be saved if the world were to come crumbling? Had she been blinded by her own selfishness, a sin she had, up until this point, been rather unaware of?
She thought herself to be generous, to feel openly and honestly; she loves with a great passion and seeks knowledge. But perhaps at some point she had dropped the deck of cards and watched them scatter. Her priority should be God, to spread His word in swaths of blooming lavender, to show the world His goodness; for that was what goodness was, right?
What if He is real? What if He isn't?
Dinah's face scrunches in thought, a sniffle sound pouring from her nostrils. A stream of affirmations repeat in her head like the sound of a barrel drum. God is real; God is with me. God is real; God is with me—
Do you think I'm a good person, Gramma?

Towhee responded to that question by giving Dinah a look. It was kind of an absurd question to her. Of course she was good. She was a child, for starters, being raised by silly but well-meaning parents. She misbehaved and made mistakes, naturally, just like everybody else in the world.

Yeah, she said simply, though she wondered, Do you think you’re a good person? Before you answer that, consider this: don’t let perfection be the enemy of good. Nobody’s perfect. We all fuck up sometimes. That doesn’t mean we’re not good.

Did she?
Well, I think I fuck up a lot, Dinah mutters; oblivious to her own language. John hurt my sister and I couldn't save her. And Kai doesn't like me and I don't know why. And-- and Mama and Daddy aren't around like they used to be, and I miss 'em even when they're still here. And I don't know if God is just mad at me or not.
She would be mad, too, if she were Him.
When Dinah looks at herself in reflections, when she gazes upon her sand-packed paws and rawboned limbs, she sees not her bleeding heart and her scientific brain; instead, it is all the jealousy and black-tongued rage, the resentment and bitterness! And no matter how much she repented, sat alone where she thought she could be with God, nothing seemed to change. She was not better.
I don't know if I'm a good person. I don't think God loves me like Mama says He does.

Towhee had the sense that Dinah was processing out loud, so she stayed silent. She blinked and stiffened at the mention of someone named John harming her sister, though she bit her tongue. It was a shame about her brother, though it wasn’t unusual for siblings not to get along. Caracal himself had grown up in a fairly volatile dynamic with the twins. Towhee couldn’t make sense of the remark about Dinah’s parents, who basically never left the island.

Look, kiddo, I could blow smoke up your ass all day long. And for what it’s worth, I think highly of you, despite the tendency for waterworks. But at the end of the day, only you—not God, not mom and dad, not grandma, not anybody—only you can decide your worth. And only you get to live your life, so you should spend it however you like. My best advice is to try to do that without hurting others, although that’s honestly not always possible.

She let that sink in while she gazed around at the purple flowers swaying in the sea breeze. Towhee had come here to kick back and sip a few Long Island iced teas. Instead, she was having one of the heaviest conversations of her nearly seven years with a small child. Man, what a weird life she led.

Maybe she was right.
How could she even know what God thought of her, what He wanted her to do? God made her this way for a reason, right?
But maybe she should stop trying to live for Him. Maybe He was only a figment of imagination; maybe He was a metaphor; maybe He was a myth meant to scare others into idealized perfection, an impossible image.
Or maybe He was merely testing her now. She did not know, could not know; and did it matter anymore?
What mattered was that Gramma loved her and thought this of her, and Dinah looks up at her with soft, squinted eyes. Thank you, Gramma.
Bony legs reach up to wrap around the tall graying shoulders in another embrace, and for a moment, everything disappears. When she closes her eyes, she feels only the blooms that hug them, and she breathes the scent of seabrine deep in her lungs.
Maybe she is a good person. Maybe that was for her to decide.
I'm glad you're here.

Suddenly Dinah’s forelegs were wrapping around her again. Towhee welcomed the embrace and patted one slender red shoulder. When the girl’s face tipped toward her, she was grateful to be able to read her lips easily: “Thank you, grandma, I’m glad you’re here.”

Same, she replied with a wry chuckle, wondering just jow much her words might impact Dinah going forward. Good talk, huh? she added with another dry laugh.

After letting the moment linger for, well, a moment, Towhee said, Unfortunately, I have, like, four zillion other grandkids on the island I’d also like to see. So step aside, Tina, she joshed, pretending like she was about to push the girl away but scooping her all the more tightly to her side. I’m jokes, kiddo. Will you come with me to find the others?

Fade here?

Gramma lessens the blow of their prior discussion, and admittedly, Dinah is more than ready to laugh about something again. Her lip curls teasingly. But I'm your faaaaaavorite, right? of course she was! Why wouldn't she be?
C'mon. They're probably over in the greenhills. the girl weaves her foreleg betwixt the strong arm of the elder Redhawk, pulling her forward with a gentle tugging motion; until a better idea strikes her.
She is still a child.
Suddenly, she makes a wild dash ahead through the grove of violet blooms. Race you! And, of course, she would probably win.