Heron Lake Plateau It was too cold to cry when I woke up alone,

prefer someone she hasn't met, or to catch up with raven.  whoever snags it.  multiple welcome.  sike lol its for @Screech.  keeping the tadpole thread vague.

Seeing Tuathal had hurt her more than she ever could have imagined.  Part of the reason she had come to the Redhawks was because she had wistfully thought that if she had found all of these Blackthorns by accident, then maybe he would, too.

But she didn't expect it to be so soon, and she didn't expect to find him when she couldn't have brought him home anyway because they didn't have room for him.  Whether he wanted to come back or not was irrelevant — he couldn't.  She didn't have the status to beg and plead for him to be accepted, and she wasn't clever enough to make someone get the boot, either.  She wasn't that malicious anyway but maybe for Tad she could have been. 

It was a mild early summer afternoon, and the only way Ceara knew how to cope with anything was putting herself to work.  She was useless at hunting when she was angry (even if the crunch of bones between her jaws might have helped with the frustration) so she patrolled the borders instead, stewing in her own thoughts. 

Screech had a very limited understanding of how things worked in his family, all things considered. He'd been against their invasion of his land from the start but, having lived with them for a few weeks now, they'd grown on him a little. It was strange when Towhee had stepped down and stranger still when Raven had taken over — well, that was for different reasons but still — everything he thought he understood fit in to a very narrow view of the world. He needed to expand his thinking and become a more accepting individual and get a handle on his temper; these were things he didn't go out of his way to consider as he patrolled the territory, but bits and pieces flit in and out of his head as he wandered lethargically across the plateau.

In other words, he was really fuckin' bored and getting existential about it, which was a bad sign overall. 

It wasn't surprising when he encountered others on his patrols, although for the most part he avoided contact with various facets of the pack; obviously he'd keep away from Raven, and Towhee was usually on her little island these days. Niamh was avoiding him so that wasn't an issue. The rest of them were Blackthorns (and idiot kids to boot). But as he rounded a bend and faced the central lake, he caught sight of a flash of fiery amber that made him do a double-take. The stranger seemed to be hard at work herself — or focused on thoughts like he was. Had he found a kindred spirit?

He called out to her over an expanse of reeds, uh -- hey! and sauntered on over, putting aside whatever reservations he usually held for meeting strangers or interacting with his weird family. Who the hell was this pretty lady? Then again, he wasn't sure what to do next, so......... he just sort of looked at her like a total dipshit.

Little did Screech know, Ceara was both a Blackthorn and an idiot kid.

She did not notice him even as she crossed his path on patrol.  His scent was one of many that mingled in and out of the borders with frequency, and it was not irregular that she even caught a fresh whiff.  He only grabbed her attention when he called out to her —

"uh -- hey!"

— and time seemed to slow as she was pulled from her thoughts.  He sounded like he was miles away, or underwater.  Instead, she found her packmate across the gentle swaying reeds, and she sped up to close some of the distance between them without thinking about it too much.  She really couldn't get a good look at him from here, but from what she could tell he was swathed in a palatable shade of gray.

Oh, um, hey! she called back dumbly, What's up?  She slowed down as she got close enough to inspect him fully — if his scars took her by surprise, she did not let on.

They stood gawking at one another for a little bit, and then Screech finally blurted, uh, so, you come here often? Which sounded totally stupid after-the-fact and he mentally kicked himself for such a stupid response. He got a little closer and sniffed the air, slipping around her deftly as he inspected her with all the tact a wolf might typically showcase; this behavior was pretty normal among wolves. He wanted to know a little more about where she'd been and who she was, why she was here, and he'd messed up on his initial comment — so a round of sniffing was the next best thing.

It was during this inspection that he noticed the dark line down her back; it didn't register immediately as a Blackthorn thing even if it should've. The boy was dense as fuck. He was more taken by the brilliance of her fur, the way the sun caught in the golden tones, and he was almost too transfixed to listen for a response — whether she gave one or not he would mumble, You're so orange. Not in like, a bad way — shit shit shit shit shit he really didn't know what to say or how to say it, so he probably sounded like a creep or an idiot or a mixture of both, —I mean, I've never seen anyone like you before! shiiiiiit.

Ceara thought he was joking, or maybe it was like one of those crummy pick-up lines that nobody ever actually used.  She couldn't tell if he was trying to be smooth or casual, or if he was trying too hard or just enough.  I live here, she said unceremoniously as the corner of her lip twitched upwards.

Whoa-hoh-man, this dude was forward!  Not that it was unnatural, but she had become accustomed to having some kind of personal space that it took her off guard.  The fur along her spine came to life, but quickly she swallowed her discomfort and gave this new boy the same kind of treatment.  Her nose first probed the bulb of flesh behind one of his ears then trailed down his neck, the soft leather of her nostrils working at the splash of ashen guard hairs between his shoulders.  The wildfire girl nosed down his flank and pulled away as she met his hip.

Um, she stuttered, not quite knowing what to make of his response.  Why would being orange be a bad thing, like, ever?  Was she pretty?  I haven't seen anyone like you before, either.  Her gut began to roll as she searched for a more put-together response.  Who're you?

Great, great. She probably thought he was a total jackass. That wasn't far off the mark but he didn't like his shortcomings to be so obvious, and for some reason it really mattered in this moment. This one moment with this one person who he just met. Yeah okay, he's a jackass, or something.

He pulled away from her after both of them had completed their assessments, and gave a little shrug when she asked after him. Whoever she was, the girl was new to the pack lands. Or at least new enough that she smelled vaguely like Raven (which made sense) and Colt of all people (which made him really jealous like wow dude get someone your own age???? Perv???). Of course, he was oblivious to the relation between the two of them, because as stated before — dense motherfucker.

I'm Screech, he said, less than enthusiastically. It wasn't often he met someone that didn't know him by description alone, and while he wanted to make a good impression he was also nervous that someone had spilled the beans on the resident freak-of-nature. He watched her for a few more seconds and just as it was becoming tedious (read: awkward and a little creepy) he asked, Who are you?

His one, hawkish golden eye bored into her for perhaps a moment longer than was socially acceptable.  Heat crept from  her stomach to her chest, straight up to her ears.  She had never been so interesting to someone — usually, her big fat mouth screwed it up for her before someone even had time to think she was pretty.

Not that this boy thought she was pretty.  But she liked to think that maybe he did — something incredibly foriegn to the late-bloomer.  She had never wanted to be an object of desire, and it still admittedly weirded her out.  But other girls liked it, and she was curious as to what that was all about.

Ceara.  Um, Blackthorn.  Her tail wagged behind her amiably, though for a moment she couldn't meet his gaze.  Do you wanna, maybe, patrol with me?

He might've been invisioning things he shouldn't have been while staring at her. Stuff like, rolling around on a grassy knoll together, or staring up at the open expanse of a starry sky, or sharing a fresh kill, or (briefly) himself poised atop her like with Sorina —

but then she spoke. 

The words didn't register at first. He was smiling dumbly and letting the tip of his tail flick happily, and he took in the first name no problem. But as soon as she mentioned her surname it was like his expression melted from happy to no comprende, and then he was just kind of... Stepping back, reconsidering his decision to be so bold.

Like, sure, she was pretty, and she was interesting, and he might've still clung to the teenage ideals of screw first talk later (or so his thoughts indicated), but all of that paled before the fact that she was a god damn Blackthorn. There were so many of them, it was like they were being summoned from a deep dark pit — was this a joke? Did she already know who he was and - fuck - was she just trolling him?

You're - you're not really, are you? he asked awkwardly, smirking and trying to put on a, you got me! expression.

She watched his expression melt and it twisted something in her gut she didn't even know was there.  She'd already been hurt enough by seeing Tuathal again, and then apparently her being a Blackthorn was a problem even though the pack was like, ninety percent Blackthorns.  Um, yeah, really.  Is that a problem?  Her voice was a touch too wistful for her taste.  I'm sorry, I guess.

She cleared her throat and began to walk.  You can come with me still, if you want.  Or not.

Okay, he knew (in a vague sense) that he was being an asshole when she confirmed her affiliation with the family he so disliked; but then she apologized for it and that took him by surprise. Screech half expected her to shout sike, just kidding! But that didn't happen — and his little awkward laugh died out. He didn't mind being attracted to someone as exotic in appearance as this girl, but it was her bloodline that made things complicated for him. He'd have to look past his (unjustified) loathing of the Blackthorns if he was going to make this lady his friend.

It occurred to him that he really needed a friend, and at the moment it was slim pickings. If she was willing to hang out with him after his weird introduction and even weirder comments, then maybe he should just man up — get over himself and his issues — and just go with it. She was walking away even as he considered his options.

Then, a few seconds later when he was a healthy distance away from her, he finally made up his mind and bolted after her — Okay, sure, yeah, lets — lets patrol. I mean I already patrolled this way but if you haven't, I can at least show you around. God, if anyone saw him making nice with a Blackthorn right now --- !!!

For a moment it seemed as if Screech wasn't going to follow her.  Whatever, she thought, he was fucking weird enough that she was probably better without his company (even if she kind of really wanted him to stick around against her better judgment).  

But then he was coming up fast behind her and agreeing to go on a patrol.  She flicked her tail and looked over her shoulder at him and offered that same characteristic lopsided smirk.  Alright, wonder boy, you lead the way.  It didn't matter if she had or hadn't seen the place (which she totally hadn't), she just didn't want to be the one taking the reins for a minute.

Wonder boy? Did that mean she liked him? He didn't give it more than a passing thought, and took the lead along the route he'd previously been heading. He'd been coming from the opposite direction and he knew there wasn't anything cool around here to show her, so he hoped his company wasn't going to weird her the fuck out. Granted he probably already had alienated her a bit.

Maybe walking around would give him a chance to clear the air? So uh, I didn't mean to sound like a total asshole or whatever, right there, gulp, here we go, playing nice and trying to keep control of his "brain to mouth" issue, its not a big deal that you're a Blackthorn or anything, he could work on the "telling lies" issue later, I just don't have much luck with your uh... Your family. I'm a Redhawk, but most of the Blackthorns around here don't seem to care, which made him sound like he was being a whiny little nerd on the playground — fuck.

Not that I can't handle some opposition! But, like.... This pack is called Redhawk for a reason. I dunno... he went quiet there, and for a few feet they could stew in the silence together, but it was Screech who hoped he hadn't shoved all his feet in his mouth by trying to fix things because when he tried to do anything, it usually backfired.

I don't seem to have much luck with 'em either, she admitted as she rolled her shoulders.  Tuathal had more of a quick-trigger temper than even his firebrand sister.  Colt had seemed to be the only one who could handle her so far — and even he warned her that there would be a few here who might not be into her attitude.

But I don't know much about whatever they've got against you, either.  Nobody's told me anything.  I've only met an older sister and an uncle.  If you were expecting an enemy, I'm sorry.  But I don't get bothered by much unless it happens to me..  If the Blackthorns hated Screech, then whatever.  They could hate him.  But she kind of had a justice boner and a thing for equality — he'd have to personally fuck up beyond the extent of just being creepy for her to hate him.  

So, what's good?  Have you been to the orchard yet?  Apples were apparently Ceara's new favorite conversation topic.

It was oddly refreshing to experience this whole "maybe friends" thing, especially considering the source. She seemed to be neutral about the whole thing so far, and Screech could only hope her view wouldn't be tainted by rumors (or, to be honest, the truths) that flew about the pack. And again she was apologizing — the fuck? 

So, what's good? she asked next, but before he could shrug away his indifference (because everything really sucked here, at least since he'd had his new home invaded and... well, sleeping with his sister wasn't a great moment either. He shook those thoughts out of his mind quickly and then looked at Ceara, There's an orchard? Screech had been here longer than anyone and even he didn't know about that!

Well, looked like she was leading again, but that was fine.  Yeah.  There's this place on one side of the Plateau with a bunch of apples.  I brought some back with me when Raven recruited me, and put them in the cache.  We can go try them, or we can go to the orchard itself.  She rolled her shoulders to indicate that she really didn't have a preference, but added, But the orchard smells like, really good.  The trees should be blooming, too.  Flowers.

Not that boys had ever been into that kind of shit, not around her anyway.  So it's up to you.

He didn't want to admit that he was vaguely intrigued by the thought of the orchard as she explained it; a place of fruit trees and flower blossoms, it sounded so feminine and stupid but awesome at the same time. Maybe only awesome because she would be there - whatever.

Lets check out the orchard, he offered, sounding more like a question than a choice. I mean if that sounds... Cool. I'm not a botanist or like, some flouncy loser, but it... sounds cool. Maybe we can collect some fruit. Nice, kid. Real smooth. Very masculine.