Heron Lake Plateau I'm burger meat and purple pills.

That night, he didn't sleep.

His emotions ran the gamut between feeling good (because on a basic level he couldn't stop the feeling), feeling guilty, and feeling nothing. There was no way for him to account for Raven's feelings; every thought of her made him think of the sensation of their coupling, and that in turn made his guts want to vacate his body. He ran, physically, until he was at the lakeside, at which point he thrust himself in to the water and let himself soak in the inky blackness of it — awash with stars, it would've been beautiful if not for the rest of his evening's escapades.

Then, Screech dashed from the shallows and on to dry land, where he vomited the contents of his twisting belly.

By morning, he was red-eyed and haggard. He loitered upon the northern edge of the territory where the Redhawk scent was the weakest, and looked to the north — the sky was cloudy, and the sunlight caused the thicker sections of cloud to blush with faint colors as the sun rose. He considered leaving then and there. 

Maybe he'd leave all of this behind. He was well on his way to screwing it all up again. But -- this was his last chance. If he left now, there was no way they'd ever see him as anything but a nuisance. The boy knew he had to put the previous night's events out of his mind if he wanted to survive; he sighed as he finally collapsed in to the grass, and was drifting in to an uneasy half-sleep within moments.