Bramblepoint Pull together for the clan and kin.

Exactly one month after arriving, Towhee left the pass. She did it without fanfare, without even telling anyone. She’d told Bushtit her plan during their most recent rendezvous and trusted him to inform @Soto when he had the chance. But as far as she figured, they owed one another nothing. And she knew nobody else would even care.

She took her time navigating northward again, stopping to fetch a drink from Serpent Lake and rest on its shore for a bit. Towhee then crossed the steppes, her step even slower as she warily eyed every inch of the sand for snakes. They must’ve been hibernating, though. She reached the prairie beyond without incident, the last stretch of dry grass standing between her and her final destination.

By the time she walked beneath the sparse boughs of Bramblepoint, Towhee’s leg ached worse than it had in recent memory. She dropped to her haunches in between an alder and an apple tree, shifting when she realized she’d sat right on a rotten apple. Towhee sighed and stretched out her leg beside the piece of smushed fruit, easing the rest of her body down onto the cold earth.

Every factor was pulling outward—Sialuk's departure, his grandmother's travels, his own designs upon the caldera. He wandered with his dreams, his patrols widening down into the valley, far beyond the bounds of Moonspear's claim. 

He was a man with one paw in, and one paw out—

And the sight of Towhee ahead was perhaps the final push toward 'out,' entirely.

Killdeer made a show of kicking up snow and brush along the way, trying to catch her eye. Once he did, he gave her a worried smile and trotted forward to touch his nose to hers, then pulled back, countenance wry but also undeniably concerned.

-What brings you here?- he asked, tilting his head. -Your son told me you were down in the lowlands, with, uh, a guy called 'Padre.'-

She hadn’t expected to see anyone, at least not until she announced her presence here. When Killdeer appeared, her brows lifted in surprise as Towhee promptly sat up again. She grunted as she pushed onto all fours, if only to give herself some leverage to grasp him into a quick hug. She hoped it might wipe that worried look off his face.

When they pulled apart, she snorted at the mention of padre and explained, Soto. He’s Bushtit’s dad, which is what I think that word means. Bushtit wanted to get to know him a bit and was treating his territory like a homebase, so it just made sense to stay there while I rested my leg. But I’m feeling better and he’s basically dispersed, so I wanted to head this way instead.

Towhee had no plans to join Moonspear’s ranks, even if he asked. No, she wanted to stay here on her own and continue her recovery. Hopefully by spring, she would be fully mobile again. Either way, she intended to keep her promise to her grandson, so it made sense to be close at hand if and when the time came.

She said as much: I plan to camp out here until I’m ready to roam again or until you reclaim the caldera—whichever comes first. Realizing how that might sound, Towhee huffed a laugh and insisted, No pressure though, honestly. I fully intend to keep my promise if you take it, though if you decide against it, that’s fine by me too. It’s totally up to you, kiddo.

She didn’t necessarily intend to isolate, though it was easy to do these days. Treepie emerged from her mother’s ulaq on this bright winter morning, eyes squinting and watering slightly against the glare. She stood in the entry for a moment while they adjusted, the silent stillness making her pensive.

Ignoring the pinch of hunger in her belly, Tiuttuk skipped breakfast to go searching for a friendly face. She caught her father’s scent and tracked it down the mountain, curious what had drawn him away this morning. She followed his trail into the nearby woods, picking her way through the brambles until she heard voices.

Towhee’s voice was unmistakable. Pie’s heart leaped, wondering if Bushtit was with her. She hastened forward, careless now as the undergrowth scraped against her. She burst into the clearing where her taataa and Towhee were talking, the latter’s words slamming into her like a stone to the face.

Reclaiming the caldera? she half-shouted in lieu of a proper greeting. You’re—? Her yellow eyes bored into Killdeer’s face. You’re going to leave Moonspear?

Fair enough. Bushtit really had grown up, he thought, with a sympathetic look toward Towhee. He was probably her last child; Killdeer doubted she'd be able to have more at her age.

Then again, lil' Buttshit had been a surprise in that regard.

He was about to reply to his grandmother when a high, querulous voice rang out behind him. He turned, slowly, to meet Treepie's gaze, his shoulders sagging a bit at the shock in her face. 

Ah, shit.

I've been thinking about it, kiddo, he told his daughter, figuring honesty was the best policy here. It's been something I've been thinking about for a while, actually. And with your mother gone, and our numbers down. . . Well, I haven't made a decision yet, but I will soon.

Killdeer gestured her forward to join the conversation. Gramma Towhee would be there with us, he explained, smiling at the seasoned woman. Amalia, too, and any kids we might have. And you, of course, are more than welcome.

Would she leave the Spear? It was clear she saw it as her destiny, to inherit the mantle of leadership from Sialuk. And being a homebody and all. . .

He paused and swallowed, waiting for Treepie's response.

Killdeer opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then froze. Towhee’s eyes immediately swept their surroundings, landing on a familiar face as it emerged from the underbrush. She couldn’t hear Treepie’s voice, though her expression was loud. Towhee sucked in a breath, quickly deducing that this was news to her great granddaughter.

She was curious to see how her grandson would field her in this emotionally intense moment. Her orange gaze cut to him, watching his lips form words. Towhee wondered if his tone was defensive or placating. Soon, he pointed at her, mentioning that she would be part of the relocation. She tried not to be too distracted by what came after that, lips twitching at the thought of more great grandbabies via Killer.

Remembering her own advice to him a few weeks ago, Towhee piped up, And I’m sure we can convince Bushtit to come hang out on a regular basis. He’s pretty fond of the Hobbit Hole. Has anyone ever told you about it, Pie?

Her stomach knotted at her father’s words. His reasoning made logical sense, though Tiuttuk’s emotions were rapidly becoming volatile. Her lip quivered as he said the words “mother” and “gone,” yellow eyes welling with tears as her taataa told her he would make a decision soon.

Evidently, her great grandmother was part of this plan. Pie’s wet eyes shifted to Towhee as the family’s matriarch made a point to mention her beloved Bushtit. Between that and her dad’s mention of Amalia and younger siblings, she felt like her heart was cracking open and bleeding out.

No, she said quietly, seemingly in response to Towhee’s question. She sucked in a shuddering breath and said more loudly, No. I’m not going anywhere. I made a promise to anaa. But more importantly, I don’t want to leave Moonspear. And most importantly, I won’t.

He tried. Towhee tried. But he sensed the tension in the air, and saw Treepie metaphorically dig her heels in, even before she spoke up.

Tiuttuk, Killer began. He'd rarely used the name given to her by Sialuk, but it felt appropriate, now. He moved closer. I understand, kiddo. And trust me, I don't make the decision to leave lightly.

She had always been attached to the mountain. Perhaps she always would be. He supposed loyalty wasn't the worst thing she could be shackled by.

He pressed his muzzle to her forehead, if she'd allow. The caldera was my birthplace, like the mountain is yours, he explained. There's a history there. A legacy. But you gotta know, no matter what I decide, or where I go, I will always love you.

*rudely crawls over myself*

She gave him a pained look when he first used her formal name, then a pet name. But she blinked and schooled her expression into one of stony resolve. Treepie knew she was being reactive—partially because she felt blindsided—and it was possible she might change her mind. Possible that he might change her mind. But right now…

Pie glanced at Towhee, then back to her taataa and said, I’m going home.

That was all. She lingered for only one heartbeat before turning swiftly and galloping back toward the mountain. Guilt nipped at her heels, particularly for dismissing both her elders and not returning Killdeer’s “I love you.” But it was for the best, she knew, to take some space. Take some time. Process this news and these emotions by herself before having these difficult conversations.

The bait didn’t work at all. Towhee sucked in a breath and bit down on her lower lip as Killdeer tried to beseech his daughter… only for Tiuttuk to turn on her heel and run away. Her orange eyes tracked the young woman until she disappeared through the trees, then panned back to Kiildeer. She stepped closer to him.

Shit, sorry, was all she could think to say. You handled that as well as you could. I wouldn’t take it personally. That was a knee-jerk reaction. Who knows how she’ll feel once she gets a chance to process properly. Towhee paused. I’d go after her… eventually. Maybe give her some time for said processing.

In the meantime, she considered the things Killdeer had said to Tiuttuk. He hadn’t made any decisions yet, but he would soon. She frowned a little as she pondered his words about the state of Moonspear. Bushtit had told her about Sialuk’s departure, so it wasn’t news to her, but she was curious for those details.

Bushtit mentioned that Sialuk had gone. Where did she go? Especially without Treepie. And why?

Killdeer looked absolutely stricken as his daughter departed, watching the space where she'd disappeared even as Towhee spoke again. He couldn't get her tone or expression out of his head. He felt as if he'd monumentally failed her—and if it hurt this bad now, how could he manage to pull this whole thing off?

He turned, stone-faced, toward Towhee, who was now questioning him about his former lover. Sialuk. . . She needed to be out in the world for a while, Killer explained, with a shrug. Went north and found a village. Pie says she's happy. I hope so.

With a sigh, he took a step forward and sighed, head falling, eyes closed. Treepie's attached to the mountain, he went on. She finds it very hard to leave, and feels obligated to stay. And, of course, there's both her parents now just up and ditching her. . .

He sank back into a seated position, brows knitted in concern.

Want to fade this in favor of our newer one? :D

At least it was nothing drastic, Towhee supposed when Killdeer explained Sialuk’s departure. Good for her for chasing her happiness, even if it was strange trying to picture Moonspear without her. She errantly wondered whether she might have felt jilted by Killdeer’s love match, though now certainly wasn’t the time to speculate about such things.

I totally understand why she’s upset. When I was her age, I was the same way. And I learned, over many years, the merit of letting go. I think she’ll get there too. If you go through with this, I know you’ll do everything you can to plan and prepare. One day, she’ll be glad that you did, that you bothered making arrangements and saying goodbye. Because most don’t.

She didn’t think “ditching” was a suitable term for this situation, though Towhee didn’t argue with him or say anything else. She just mumbled something that sounded like “c’mere” and pulled Killdeer into a hug. She even planted a sloppy kiss between his eyes.

Let’s hang out for a bit and talk about those kids you mentioned having with Amalia, she suggested after they parted. Softly, she added, Give her a bit more time before you go after her, and glancing toward where Pie had gone.

Since her leg was still aching, Towhee patted the ground and eased down again, careful this time to avoid that stupid apple.

shore thing

He hadn't ever had this issue, himself. Maybe it was because Bronco had left and then returned so early in his life, and then split from his mother—he'd learned the nature of change from that. And then there were his travels with Caracal, and the transience they explored as youngsters.

Still, Killdeer supposed they had created so much stability for Treepie here that she was now revolting against change—so at least there was that.

Sure, he told his Gramma, managing a weak smile and adding, So Bushtit told me he's learning a new language from his padre. . .