Moonspear hush

Towhee was wearing Batman as a hat when Phox suddenly appeared with the good news. He rushed off to deliver messages to others, leaving her to climb the mountain with only the small bat for company. He moved to roost in the thick fur growing around her neck while Towhee peered skyward, noting Sixsix frantically circling.

The blackbird’s panicky movements hastened Towhee’s step. She reached the door of Sialuk’s ulaq and peered inside. The head wasn’t alone in either her den or her labor, it seemed. Aside from that, everything appeared normal to Towhee, who crept just inside and slung her belly to the dirt floor.

You’ve got this. Trust your instincts, she advised, folding her forepaws and focusing primarily on Sialuk, but I’ll be right here if you need anything.

She felt Batman crawling back out of hiding again, coming to perch on her jawbone like some adorable growth. Together, they witnessed the nearly simultaneous births, then watched as the exhausted new mothers tended to their newborns.

Congrats, both of you, Towhee said, wondering if this was it—an only child to each mother, like Meerkat—or if there were more to come.