Redhawk Caldera the part you throw away

Preparations had to be made for their assault upon Blackfeather, and while Screech had been given the role of babysitter he couldn't think about anything aside from the oncoming combat. He was worried on various levels for members of his family of course, but mostly - selfishly - thinking of himself.

He didn't want to be here if Blackfeather won; he didn't want to see the mayhem of the battlefield either, but especially could not fathom seeing those awful creatures with their twisted bodies and ruinous mental states within the limits of the caldera. Not only that, but Screech had not come to terms with what he'd witnessed on the Moonspear border - sure he'd tried to talk about it, but he wasn't sure what to do. If he disregarded his mission and went with the raiding party in to Blackfeather, would anybody notice? Would he only be throwing himself in the line of fire? Or, and he thought of this as he paced in the heart of the territory by the sprawling, ice-crusted lake, should he just run away entirely?

That was a cowardly way to face his current situation but wasn't he a coward? He had always been a runner; running from Lagan and into Liffey, running from the bear, running from Towhee and his family, running from Moonspear, Blackfeather -- he was always on the move and never, ever, ever safe.

It would be better if I just left, he commented to nobody while staring down at a patch of stones peeking through the snow. A flick of his wrist lifted a small stone free of its moorings and in to the lake's shallows, while a smaller pebble caught upon the ice and slid noisily across. Save everyone the trouble. They could run the kids to safety without him. He could go find Cassiopeia, and together they'd weather the storm that had descended upon both their families.