Lake Rodney they'll never win you back

Vague thread is vague. Open to anyone, and Cassiopeia has permission to drop in anytime.

The boy did not know what he had been doing in the forest when he'd encountered her, and he especially did not know what he'd agreed upon. It was a stupid thing to do with winter so abundant. During these miserable days filled with ice and snow, he should have been home with Raven to continue his schooling or trying to make amends with his siblings - really, anything other than wandering around the lake. If anyone caught him he could easily explain himself away: he was fishing, or patrolling, or exploring and keeping an eye out for those dangerous Blackfeather wolves. The truth wasn't too far from that either. Titmouse -- er, Screech, was plotting something. He had wandered to the lakeside to think and hadn't been aware of anyone tailing him because of how interalized his thinking had gotten. What was his next step? What if he was found out - if Cassiopeia was found here - and it only made matters worse? Would Blackfeather be looking for her? Would this doom his family, and most importantly - how much did he care if it did?

Redshank had strayed from the coast after finding nothing but meagre scraps and feral wolves there, and instead travelled further inland. The rotten carcass he had found a few days ago had sustained him for a while more, at least, but the pangs of hunger grew more painful with each day. He had begun eyeing off wolf tracks, wondering where they would lead and if he should take the chance. Even his roaming tended towards pack-heavy areas, but some deep, deep part within the boy was still pledged to Rannoch, even though he wanted the ocean-eyed man dead.

Redshank knew, however, that he would not last the winter without the strength of a pack behind him.

He came down from the mountains upon spying a nearby lake from their peaks, hoping there was even the slightest chance of a herd making a stop there. Though the snows had driven most of the prey away, so the hope was mostly in vain. A vaguely familiar scent caught his interest, however, and Redshank's focus shifted onto that, eventually coming across a figure that breathed a small amount of life back into him. "Tit?" he said in an almost whisper, before he gave a bark to the other boy who seemed just as lost as he. Despite his weary legs' protest, Redshank threw the remainder of his energy into a full out sprint towards his former packmate, aiming to grapple and pin him to the ground.

Note to self: this is set prior to MSP/Galaxy event. Don't break your own timeline!

The thundering steps of another wolf jarred him from his thoughts more than the stranger's voice; he looked up in surprise when a dark-pelted body came careening out of nowhere towards him, and with a staggered sidestep he tried to put some much needed distance between the two of them - but to no avail. The stranger grabbed at the silver boy's shoulder scruff and the next thing Titmouse knew, he was being pulled and twisted to the ground. He snarled without thinking, baring his teeth and striking out as he tried to simultaneously position his thin limbs and brace for a potential impact. A tactic which had been immortalized during his warrior training among the wolves of the Vale, ironically. He did this without thinking - but his teeth snapped with the full intent to do harm, and he would escape as soon as possible if his efforts were true.

aaand feel free to have him run off if you want lmao

His teeth met their mark even as Titmouse tried to step out of the way, which surprised even Redshank. The two tumbled into the frost-covered ground as his legs gave out, yet he kept his grip firm on the other boy's scruff, not intending to let him get away just yet. He hadn't really thought about why he had sought to tackle and scare the wits out of the flighty boy, he had just...done it. He wasn't even angry at Titmouse, despite their hatred when they had first met. If anything, Redshank was pleased to see the silver-haired yearling.

A sharp pain suddenly pulled him out of his thoughts, and he cried out, releasing the mouthful of fur. The other boy had managed to land his own hit, striking out like a viper and leaving him with a bleeding wound on his neck. "Titmouse, you piece of shit, it's me!" Redshank snarled, twisting to try and face him. Did he even remember him?

Teeth sank in to fur and then beyond fur and in to flesh, and as a line of blood caught between his teeth and met his tongue, Screech came to a violent stop. His body had tumbled carelessly but he braced it now; he released his grip and pulled, almost able to get free of the stranger's own hold, only to pause when a voice (muffled though it was) spoke with a convenient familiarity.

Redshank--? The boy craned his neck and thrashed his body, kicked with a foreleg, and tried to pry himself free with one last shimmy of an attempt. Whether he got free or not, he did manage to get a glimpse of some dark fur and could only assume he was right - but that didn't make him feel good at all. He didn't feel bad for his reaction either, considering his history with the other boy and the manner in which he decided to reintroduce himself. Screech shoved at him with a paw and huffed loudly, his scratchy voice demanding, The fuck -- where'd you come from?

Finally, some recognition. Redshank let go of his hold on the squirming boy, his lips curling into a pleased grin as Titmouse struggled to face him. They were still entangled, a mess of gangly limbs and black and silver fur, but Redshank was quick to pull away as he was smacked with a paw. He backed away from the other boy, tail waving behind him in a way that could almost be described as playful, but his expression was anything but.

His ears fell back and he grit his teeth as that familiar but grating voice rang out. He thrust his muzzle over to where the mountains bordered the land, a wide, sweeping gesture that indicated nowhere in particular. "Y'know...everywhere, and nowhere," he said nonchalantly, before swiping a pawful of snow at Tit. "Where've you been?" he shot back.

The response was typically vague, and Titmouse narrowed his eyes when he heard his friend speak, in time to avoid getting blasted by a wave of kicked snow. I went home, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Where else would he have gone after Liffey had abandoned him? Well, okay, maybe he was remembering the circumstances wrong (he had been alone for a while between leaving the Vale and returning to the Caldera, so you can't expect accuracy or anything). Either way, he had to find his fellow Redhawks - except now with all the bullshit going on around him, it really didn't feel right.

This place here, this lake, it's called Lake Rodney. My parents found it. At least that was the concensus. Oddly enough Titmouse had a good memory for some stuff - like the random stories his siblings would overhear and then tell at family gatherings. He hadn't thought it was important to remember, but all of a sudden, with Redshank here with him, it seemed tantamount he recall these facts. They claimed the mountain range due east of here - it's a fucking volcano, or, it was.

Home. For a moment, Redshank was taken aback, as if startled by the realisation that Titmouse had had somewhere to go back to. In truth, he was more shaken by the fact that others did indeed have somewhere else to call home if their former one was uprooted somehow. He had never had that; he and Sol had always been on the move, and the man neglected to tell Redshank where it was exactly he had come from. While he wasn't angry, he was slightly jealous of Titmouse for a quick second.

When he turned their attention onto the lake, the Cairn turned to give it a cursory glance, letting out a soft, "cool." His parents were alphas? Titmouse didn't seem like the type to come from regality, but still Redshank's large ears swivelled as the other boy divulged more information, and his eyes grew as he spoke. "Wait, hold up," he said. "Y'lived on a fuckin' volcano? Why'd you leave?"

His surprise had faded and it was his friend's turn to experience the same, which entertained Titmouse immensely. To the question he just murmured, Didn't really mean to. Can't remember exactly what happened, and his shoulders rolled in a shrug. That had been such a long time ago now — he was a totally different person.

I got lost, found Liffey, whatever, whatever, wound up back here. It wasn't the best retelling but Titmouse wasn't a storyteller, he didn't have the aptitude nor the attention span for that. Redshank wouldn't really care about the skipped details anyways, or so he assumed. But what are you doing here? You're not in the Vale — what about Rannoch?

It hadn't occurred to the kid that Rannoch, Liffey, and all the others had botched their little pack and that the Vale was uninhabited.

He accepted Titmouse's explanation with a shrug, knowing what it was like. His own story was similar — ran off, not sure why, can't remember now. He just knew that he would kill Sol if he ever saw him again. The sadistic bastard. The other boy's summary of events was amusingly inexplicit, but Redshank again wasn't bothered. The two weren't sticklers for detail, it seemed. What mattered was the here and now. He barely remembered Liffey, but the mention of Rannoch caused his lip to curl and expose a single fang.

"Dude, Rannoch just...left," he said quietly, the murmured tone betraying his simmering fury. Another to add to his hit list. "He said he went t'look for Cypress but just...never came back." Redshank looked to his friend, his eyes a mixture of betrayal and anger. He could've been dead or dying in a ditch somewhere, but Redshank couldn't care less. "Fuck that place, fuck Rannoch."

The two boys had rarely gotten along in the past - or maybe they had, but in the way that stepsiblings might. They cared somewhere deep down and only showed it through the pulling of pranks, the pain they could cause one another a direct reference to their attachment. But when the topic of Rannoch was involved, that was where Titmouse would always differ from Redshank; the news that the pack had likely dissolved and that his once-idol had vanished made his fur bristle, and before he could help himself, the Redhawk was throwing himself headlong at Redshank with his teeth bared.

He wasn't much of a brawler; whatever effort Titmouse put forward when it came to grappling with Redshank, it wasn't in any way dire. They'd rough-house a bit if there was contact, or the idiot boy would careen by and continue his grumbling. Either way he was defensive of the very idea that Rannoch had always represented, and soon enough was snapping, Fuck you! He probably had a good reason to leave, his ears fanned either side of his head as a sign of uncertainty that he could not help, but he followed up with, I bet you left because you missed him.

He would've jeered Redshank with a hearty shout of, "Gaaaay!" but Titmouse wasn't smart enough to be that stupid.

Redshank was blindsided by Titmouse's sudden attack. He let out a shout as the boy launched himself, fully expecting him to have agreed that Rannoch was a dick and that he deserved whatever he had coming. He forgot the two were family, that Titmouse had treated the burly man almost as a father figure. Whatever bond they could have hoped to have forged through a mutual hatred was shattered by the Redhawk's reaction.

The two collided and Redshank clawed, snarling. The fight was over as quick as it had begun, but somehow, the darker boy had ended up beneath Titmouse, pinned. His screeching was suddenly grating rather than oddly comforting, and Redshank spat back, "fuck you! Why are y'on his side?" There was nothing that could convince him that Rannoch hadn't just abandoned the Vale. No issue was worth that and, if he and Cypress had indeed ran back to their original family, they were nothing more than traitors.

Because you missed him. "I did not!" he sneered, glaring up at the grey clad boy. "I'll kill him if I see him again!"

The boy wasn't about to justify his alliegance to Rannoch, and soon enough the topic was dead in the water. Screech reacted with a pffft and a roll of his eyes, bumping him with his shoulder as if to wordlessly say, I was just kidding. Whatever problem Redshank had was none of his business. Yeah, whatever, he murmured, and then with a skeptical look in his eyes Titmouse queried: You ever killed anyone before? Shit, he'd kick your ass.

Whatever ire Titmouse had displayed previously (and the defensiveness he felt for his role-model and idol), his assault transformed in to a game of rough-housing; his mention of an ass kicking was punctuated by a few playful jabs with his snout and jostling as he threw his weight at Redshank, as if to prove a point.

His anger was brushed off by the other, cast aside as if he didn't truly believe Redshank would kill Rannoch if he got the chance. Because he totally would. Logistics such as the man being much older and much larger than him would be something to deal with later. Redshank just had a rage within him and it was all directed towards the turquoise-eyed wolf. Titmouse's attempts to quell his temper only served to add fuel to the fire, and he toyed with the idea of bringing the boy his head just so he could prove him wrong. He would see.

They'd all see.

"What?" he retorted at his company's jab, before suddenly the two resumed their play fighting again. When Titmouse thrust his pointed muzzle towards him, Redshank clumsily attempted to grab it within his teeth. They snapped closed around thin air. "Fuck off," he shot back, voice breaking halfway through his counter. "I'd slit 'is throat before he even knew I was there."

That's if you can find him, he commented sharply, and fixed his big golden eyes upon his friend with a look that said, are you serious right now. His brows raised for a second before the expression melted off of his face, and he said, You have any idea where Rannoch is now? You wanna hunt him down and cut him? Obviously I remember him different from you — he was strong, he taught me how to fight. He'd probably skin you alive before you could even think to move against him.

So it was a game of make-believe they were playing now. Schemes and plots. Things that Titmouse would never follow through with because of his attachment to his once-leader, but he'd entertain the thought for Redshank's sake. Maybe make him see reason. If I see him anywhere near the Caldera then I'll find you - how's that? But c'mon Redshank, you pussy, you know he'd kick your ass. Tit scoffed and bumped his friend one last time, jostling him about with less enthusiasm now; in all seriousness, he was trying to dissuade him from doing anything stupid. Oh, the irony.

It was obvious Titmouse wasn't taking him seriously and seemed to still hold allegiance - even a degree of respect - for the man, which drove Redshank even more mad. His dubious look was not missed, and the darker boy turned his head defiantly, unable to look his friend in the eye. Skin him alive. He snorted. Though large in stature, the former Alpha was man of words, not teeth. He wasn't sure if Rannoch even had any experience in a real fight. He was soft...and that quality was one Redshank could exploit in time.

Titmouse's deal was one the Cairn was doubtful of, but still, he nodded in agreement. As much as he hated to admit, he spoke the truth. Redshank had no idea where Rannoch was, if he was even still alive. And when - or if - he did eventually come across him, would he even be able to follow through with his plans? "I can still try..." he mumbled quietly, staring down at the ground in partial defeat. At his jostle, the boy immediately whipped around to snap once again at his friend.

"...Try and kick your ass!" he shouted as an afterthought, following through the movement with a playful lunge, aiming to throw his body weight into the other boy.

Before he knew it, Redshank was directing his ire towards the masked boy. It was clear by the way he threw himself at Screech, snapping but not bristling, missing most of his attempts but still jostling for position, that it was all in jest. Screech reacted in kind - he ducked and zigged, zagged, snapped, and blundered; the two would tussle like this for a good chunk of time before growing tired, at which point they would go their separate ways. But for the time that they were together, they were like true brothers - a rare moment in both the youngster's lives.