Heron Lake Plateau 'Cause in this home nobody cries alone.

Niamh had returned, spent, to her den with a bit of a hitch to her step due to the cold and lack of sleep that seemed to make her joints even more angry. She hadn’t managed to fall asleep, but had managed to loose a few tears by the time she heard the crumching of footsteps on snow as someone approached her den. At the garbled monotone greeting, Niamh chuffed instinctively- even though she knew Towhee couldn’t hear her.

Quixote had told her not necessarily to avoid Towhee, but that was how she’d interpreted it, as it was the only way she could possibly make herself talk to anyone other than her. It didn’t feel right, though- it felt like he was trying to divide their loyalty to one another.

She pulled herself through the narrow entrance to her den and nodded at Towhee and Phox, squinting into the daylight. She’d wilted inwardly when Towhee mentioned having spoken to Quixote, and she felt her cheeks flush. Unaware of the fact Phox hadn’t been privy to their conversation, she turned her ears back. ”What’d he tell you?” She asked, tone flat, suspicious that he probably inferred things she might not have wanted. It wasn’t Quixote’s place to dabble in her personal life; he was alpha and Towhee was beta, but ranks aside, she disliked the fact that apparently Quixote could talk to Towhee, but she couldn’t.