The Sunspire Muscle car.

Towhee—who had her back blown out—was that what Reyson had meant by the reference? Or that he had blown her back out? Lítið dádýr had reared her head, perhaps reiterating to Reyson just how naive she was. Innocent doe-eyes—quiet demeanour. Knew shit about nothing, it seemed. It was a fitting nickname.

But Towhee was on the move, and for a she-wolf with such a grievous injury, she sure could move fast. She sidled closer, allowing the woman to lean to her, despite Towhee being larger than her. She would grit her teeth and bear it—they would have her tucked in somewhere cozy in the vale where she could finish cleaning her wounds properly, give her something for the pain, and put a poultice so strong on that any bacteria would whither away at the thought of it.

That was the plan.

“I have a feeling many of your introductions are unforgettable,” she teased, sensing the energy of the other by how well she seemed to get along with either wolf in her company. “Let’s get you home,” she offered, eyes warming as they skimmed over her current ward. It would be nice to have another in their ranks—another family.