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.

Colt wasn't exactly thrilled to be drawn into his sister and her group's rivalry with the neighbors, but he wasn't sad for the excitement.  Way more interesting than wandering about looking at lakes.

He could understand why others might be a bit nervous though, especially those young enough to not have done much fighting.  He himself had been an idiot at that age, ready to throw himself at anyone just to prove he could, but a few hard knocks had taught him sometimes a little caution meant living, and boy did he like living.

Now he supposed he was one of the veterans in this here group, being older than a good chunk of the wolves here.  So when he caught sight of Titmouse sitting and looking rather, well, pathetic, he didn't hesitate too long before approaching.

"Hey, kid.  Something eating you, or you just tryin to raise the water level?"

2 edgy 4 me

Screech was tired of being caught unaware. He was a fool that needed to keep tabs on his surroundings and you'd have expected him to be better, all things considered, but he wasn't. So when the stranger's voice popped up out of nowhere the boy's spine spiked and his tail puffed, then lashed at his ankles. He whipped his head around and gave a dead-eye stare to the interloper, only to sort-of recognize him. Screech had never met Colt before but he could've sworn he looked familiar to someone else; this caught him off-guard more than anything, but forced him to pause and think for a second rather than bolt or, as he'd done in the past, make things worse.

Hey asshole, don't call me kid. Swish swish went his tail. Screech kicked one more stone before lurching away and began to make a slow escape, keeping his attention glued on the stranger while he watched the rock tumble and plop in to the lake.

Apparently his initial assessment had been correct; this wolf had something shoved way up where the sun don't shine.  He was sorta 2 for 2 on that, with wolves he'd met from this pack.  He supposed he could chalk it up to his sister's wonderful taste in character.

"Alright then, not-kid, what should I call you?"  He took the asshole moniker in stride, figuring it to be not unfair.  He'd been called worse.  His tone was affable, and he sat down easily.  He wasn't about to chase Screech down if he decided to dart off, but he wasn't opposed to a chat.  Maybe he was just knocking the unfriendly introductions out first, and the rest of the pack were perfectly normal and boring.

Screech, he spat hastily, not really knowing why he was being so extra when it came to this particular wolf. Maybe it was how smug he looked? Maybe he was just having a bad day (a bad life really). Screech wasn't in the mood for playing games and he especially wasn't going to take any insults laying down. Whether Colt meant it as an insult or not.

I was born here. Who're you? To be honest, he didn't really care that much. But the stranger must've been a Redhawk of some variety or else someone would have chased him away by now - there was still time, maybe he would do it himself. Rather than waste the energy Screech decided to bide his time, get a feel for who this guy was and why he thought to insinuate himself into the boy's life so suddenly.

Wait... for real? "Screech?  You pick that one out yourself or did your parents have a sense of humor?"  He grinned, unable to help but find amusement in the name.  Maybe the Blackthorns weren't the only ones with sadistic naming tendencies.

"Colt, Colt Blackthorn.  Better known as 'Finley's brother' I suppose."  Nowadays.  He pointed his nose at the lake, where the boy had been pushing pebbles only a moment ago, and questioned offhandedly, "Wanna talk about it?"  If not he wouldn't be offended; he wasn't the sort that liked hashing shit that bothered him out, but he knew some did, and he literally had nothing better to do at this moment.

It was difficult to tell if this guy was trying to be friendly or trying to piss him off more, because his quip about his name made Screech's jaw set firmly and he couldn't help but glare. The fact he'd picked out his new name himself had originally filled him with pride, and now he was feeling a few stabs of doubt and more than a little irritated by this antagonist.

He opened his mouth to protest but the guy was already introducing himself and, a bit surprised, Screech lost his train of thought. So you're my uncle. Yes, kid, that's how families worked. When Colt motioned at the lake Screech glanced at it, and remembered what he had been doing.

He took a breath, tried to hide a small smirk that wanted to spread across his face, and gave Colt the rundown:

I left as a kid, by accident, and lived somewhere else for a while. When I got back I was kind of a dick so my siblings don't like me very much. Then Blackfeather grabbed me and held me against my will, and when I came back it was like nothing had happened, nobody really seemed to care. Now we're all going off to war and they expect me to help babysit and I just.. I just want to leave. Maybe that would shut this guy up. But the more he spoke the more fervently he felt about the topic, until he was thoroughly invested and the smirk had faded to a scowl. I'm an asshole.

Was he? He wasn't aware any of their other siblings had been here, but if he said so, Colt wasn't able to question it right now.  Titmouse went into a quick tirade, and Colt listened as best he could, his brow raising as it continued.  Well that was.... a lot.

Cue sage advice.  "So leave."  Colt smiled, hearing a lot of familiar doubt in the speech.  He hadn't always been this awesome, after all.  "Be an asshole.  There's no one in this world you gotta answer to more than yourself."  Finley would love this little speech if she was here.  But he wasn't his sister, and from where he stood, making yourself miserable for a pack you dont feel tied to did no one any favors.  "One asshole to another; sometimes you gotta look out for you."

Colt was new here. It was evidenced in the way he spoke so easily about abandoning everything; even if it was something he wanted to hear, Screech still wrestled with such a decision. If he had to leave then he would, but to give up on everyone like that - to damage whatever connections he had left - sounded like a painful procedure he'd rather avoid. At the same time, Screech couldn't help but hear the truth in what the man was saying. He didn't want to admit to how right Colt sounded.

Yeah? And then what happens when everything goes wrong out there, he motions to the wilderness in order to imply the outside world, since the caldera is a pretty self-contained little universe unto itself; and I want to come home? You don't know my family. Redhawks -- they don't accept abandonment too well.

He knew Towhee wouldn't like it. As bipolar as his relationship was with her, Screech still put too much value in his siblings' opinions and didn't want to screw anything up with them that badly. A few squabbles were fine (that was normal), but to leave without a word? It was within his character (he was loath to admit this to himself too), but Screech was still resistant.

You sound like some kind of expert, he commented next, making an observation that could've been misconstrued as some kind of insult. But oh well, they were having some kind of strange heart-to-heart right now. May as well make the best of it.

Colt had to laugh at that one.  "I guess you could say that," he responded with amusement, clearly directed at himself.  Wryly he thought back to his conversation with Finley.  "You'd be surprised what family can forgive."  

Leaving wasn't supposed to be easy, and some never did.  He had; he and Finley, together.  They'd needed to once home got a little too small for the likes of them to remain.  "And sometimes you find a better one.  But leave, or don't.  Just make sure it's what you want, not what they do."  Because sticking around out of obligation seemed worse, somehow.  "Do you have anyone you'd go with?"  It helped if you had a friend, even if for a while.  His sister and he had split ways, yeah, but while they'd run together, everything had been far easier.

He hadn't considered that before - to do something for himself rather than catering to the family. Everyone thought that he was already really selfish, but he was still here wasn't he? He'd come back, over and over. He came back and settled in to the routine life of helping around the packlands - but he wasn't as esteemed as his siblings, not a warrior like Towhee or as smart as Phox, as well liked as Orca. It had been his own doing but still, Titmouse had always been eager for the praise of his peers. He could've gone with Liffey to whatever place she'd ended up - or run off from Blackfeather with Cassiopeia and not looked back. But he'd come home. If they couldn't see the value in that here, maybe Colt was right.

The boy's ears twitched when Colt asked about someone he'd go with. His first reaction was a strange heat to his cheeks (and other parts, um) and he looked at the water with a shrug. But after some thought he admitted, Yeah, I have someone. I guess we could go together.

It was an option. Having Colt confirm it as a good idea was something new. It would be hard to leave Raven behind and the rest of them but, it felt right to him. Leaving rather than facing this war was cowardly but he knew - and they all knew - Titmouse was a coward.

Thank you, he blurted with a glance at the other wolf, You've been surprisingly.. helpful.

He hadn't entirely expected his advice to be taken well; but 'Screech's mood seemed honestly improved when he responded, and Colt felt a warmth of satisfaction he hadn't had in a good long while.  This was what being in a pack got you.

"As usual," he responded with a cocky grin.  He was here for a fight, as were many of the others.  If this kid didn't want to, he shouldn't, and from the look of him, he wouldn't be much help anyway.  Let him see a piece of the world first.