Heron Lake Plateau show me your peepis

Clover loitered around the borders for one reason alone, really, as she wasn't a fan of dealing with anything from the outside unless she had hella backup thanks to the Blocked Incident, and that was to catch a glimpse of her uncle. Maybe he'd come back. Maybe... 

She sighed a little before turning on her heel and heading inward. She wanted to visit her baby bros, as they always uplifted her spirit with their stupid lil babytalk which was so damn cute but she'd never admit that, nope!!! She wasn't the best puppysitter, frankly, as there were times she literally sat on her brothers (feet, fortunately) on accident. Her powers of observation were not the best. 

Her conversation with Fiadh did get her thinking, though. What did she want to do with her life...? Maybe she could become a healer, like Raven. 

Cue, flashback: Lucca, eat this!!! It's tasty!!! *@Lucca eats strange looking mushroom, begins to poop his brains out less than thirty minutes later. Raven heals him, no one is sure why Lucca pooped his brains out to this day, except for Clover, and maybe Lucca did, too, but Lucca didn't snitch on her...*

Ah, yeah, probably not that route then. What else was there?

HEY, GET OFF YOUR ASS! Belted the voice of one of the most renowned Redhawks to have been pooped out of the long-dead Fox, just prior to his thunderous arrival and - potentially - bowling-over of one Clover Blackthorn. It hadn't been his intention to do any harm to the other wolf; Screech had just been minding his own business and doing his own patrol, when he came upon a coyote ripping a new hole in to a perfectly good cache. That led to a (somewhat comical) chase across the plateau, leading him straight in to — IT'S GONNA GET AWAY!

Whether Screech collided with Clover or not, the culprit he was pursuing was much more fleet of foot. In its mud-brown maw was the neck of a goose or something, and it flipped about flaccidly with each leap and stride the thief made. Screech had been hot on it's tail until the Blackthorn had suddenly materialized as an obstacle; cue screaming, and the potential escape of one exuberant little coyote pest.

Clover was abruptly startled from her flashback reverie when she was bowled over by something huge and horrible and probably a bear—she lost her breath for a moment, thefuisgoinon—and she lay there flat for a moment, recovering and trying to gather herself, when a horrifically annoying voice caused her to lurch upward and squint ahead. Oh, the humiliation!!!!!!! It wasn't a bear, it was King of the Fucktards, Screech. YOU'RE GONNA REGRET THAT, Clover bellowed as she stumbled to a stand, a little woozy from the collision, blinking roughly to process what the hell she was witnessing.

A coyote? Well, it hadn't gotten in near where she was patrolling, but it had gotten in somehow. It was making a bid at an escape, and Clover was inclined to let it so the blame would fall squarely on this asshat's shoulders. He should have seen her there, and her pride smarted that she had been bowled over so easily—no surprise, given her petite stature, a sore spot for her—and this thought made her want to turn away.

Was her pride so much that she would let a coyote get away with stealing? Which was worse, the personal offense, or the pack offense?

Clover bristled. She swallowed her pride and moved in short-legged strides, picking up the pace with a huff. Her petite stature lent her some speed, though perhaps not as much as someone rangier like Fiadh. She broke into a gallop, hoping to catch up and intervene with the trespasser. She'd be happy enough to get the meal back; killing wasn't really on her mind.

He stumbled over her and had to concentrate on his footwork lest he fall and lose his target, but in the process of doing that he may as well have been dancing a jig across the petite girl; maybe he would've apologized, but before the thought could surface in his mind, Screech stomped against the ground and found his balance. He leaped around Clover and took off after the coyote — his ears twisting and slanting back when he heard the girl's violent shout. A part of him might've been proud that someone in his family had such pipes, but she was a Blackthorn, so any accolades he could've thought up in the next few minutes were swiftly forgotten.

He wanted to shout back at her — but Screech had to breathe, and he couldn't run, breathe, and scream at some little twat all in one go. The coyote had his full attention again and he zoomed after it across the plateau — steadily gaining — and then there was a flash of silver as Clover came veering out of seemingly nowhere. The coyote loosed a screech of its own and adjusted course, which cut its speed and allowed the Redhawk to catch up. He was snapping eagerly at the canine's narrow hips in the next instant.

Clover, too, caught up eventually thanks to it adjusting course—but as the Redhawk made for its hip Clover made a bid for its face, which might have been a mistake any other time except for its mouth was full. Except then it wasn't, and it snapped wildly at her, causing Clover herself to move like a bewildered colt and her trajectory was suddenly back toward Tit, surely like the clever coyote had devised and desired—Clover, wide-eyed

*Record Scratch* *Freeze Frame* Yup, that's me. I bet you're wondering how I got into this situation...

was well on the way to doing precisely what Titmouse had done to her seconds ago. Except Clover felt she really was totally blameless, and that if this shithead hadn't fucked up in the first place, she would not be milliseconds from what felt inevitable: their second collision in 24 hours. Hell, in a singular hour. FUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK, She roared, seeing the scene in slow-mo as second by second she came closer and closer to him.

The coyote was right there. He was just starting to play around with it, worry it a little, when CLOVER FUCKING BLACKTHORN came outta nowhere and went for its face. It was already veering away from Screech at a strange angle, and to have another opponent suddenly going for its vital spots was just too much. It snapped at her and then ducked, and with a few quick steps it had evaded both wolves.

However, the wolves could not detour fast enough, and went colliding in to one another in the next second. Clover's stupid face hit Screech in the chest. He felt his jaws snap together; one tooth catching the edge of his tongue, but the crunch of his teeth was another matter. Pain radiated through his mandible but it was dwarfed by the collision of chest — legs — belly — ground, as the two devolved in to a pile.

Her shout was rivaled by his own yowling of frustration and pain — he shoved at her even before realizing they were tangled up together, kicking and pushing, and eventually giving up. Screech was stuck on his back with Clover more-or-less sitting on him. Blood was dribbling from the corner of his mouth, and he just barely could turn his head to spit a mess of blood in to the grass. 

Oh, there was a tooth in there somewhere too. 

WHAT THE FLUCK? He said, once the chaos had settled.

It was a mess, the two of them, and they rolled together in a painful tumble. She blacked out for a moment there, and when she came to she was sitting right on top of him with a bloody nose and lip both. Fortunately, though, she lost no teeth in the process. Blinking again, she gathered her bearings when something yelled from beneath her. 

What?

She looked down, and there he was! And he was yelling at her!? WHAT THE FUCK YOU! Clover screamed in turn, and her expression turned mortified before she loosed the biggest fart she had ever in her whole life produced then and there on his chest. Clover lept off of him, bellowing, DID YOU HEAR THAT FUCKING DUCK???? Not having the dignity, the tact, or the grace to admit that she did what she did, she farted, but then smiling when she realized she released a terrible odor right on top of him—

but that would mean he knew she farted—

Clover spun on her heel.

His one eye was remarkably sparkly. He looked roguishly handsome in this light... No. No. NO!!!!!!!

That's fuckin' right, I farted on you!!!!! Like she meant it, And there's pLENTY MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM IF YOU GET IN MY WAY AGAIN! You ran into me first! And, and, and... I don't like you!!! Not one bit! I know you don't like Towhee, I know you don't like my family, Clover accused, her ears thrusting forward, and everyone else might be game to give you a chance, but not me. 'Cause I saw you that day. And you know what else? Clover sneered, You musta been alone all that time. You ended up alone, 'cause in the end, here you are again, 'cause everyone else probably rejected you, too, she spat, cause they saw what I see. The truth!!!! 

Where did all this hate come from?

She squirmed and he continued to struggle beneath her. Sure she was tiny, but those Blackthorns were heavy motherfuckers with thick skulls and — okay, he couldn't think of any insults right now because breathing was hard, but you get the idea. There was Clover, sitting pretty atop her bloody throne, and Screech sputtering for breath beneath her. The uproar of her shouting was curtailed when she finally slogged off of him—and then in the midst of the briefest silence ever, there came a loud whoopie cushion-esque sound.

What was worse than that, was the smell. Nothing could have prepared Screech for the noxious cloud of fumes that emanated from the Blackthorn's tainted behind; it was worse than anything he'd ever encountered before (even worse than Tywyll's eau-de-fish-gut perfume from earlier in the day). Soon enough Screech's gaze was hazy with a film of tears, and he was recoiling hard against the spring shoots growing beneath his crumpled body. He pushed at Clover as she moved away from him (inadvertently smacking her right in the face with a flailing paw as she about-faced to spew some garbage at him).

He struggled to roll himself away from her, struggled more to get to his paws, and gasped for air despite the thick cloud that seemed to permeate everything. Screech knew she'd done it on purpose — some kind of biological warfare tactic to distract him from the way she'd fucked up his patrol. But he could barely breathe let alone retort in any useful or harmful manner. After a few seconds the air began to clear but Clover was still making a fucking racket -- and it devolved in to something about hating Towhee and being alone and rejection and -- truth? What the fuck did this twatwaffle know about truth?

It was Screech's turn to stand tall and face his enemy. It had been a coyote up until now, but he could see that the coyote had been a catalyst to force some kind of confrontation; he wondered if maybe Clover or one of the other stupid fucking Blackthorns had baited that coyote in to the territory just to fuck with him — but whatever, he was opening his mouth now, which could only mean:

You fucking idiot. I was chasin' that coyote away from your little brothers and sisters. It came right up to the fuckin' den! I needed your help and you fuckin' let me down, but what should I expect from a piece of trash like you. Who even are you? Okay, he was a little bit riled up and not making much sense, but to be fair neither was she. He reeled it in a breath or two, pacing and glaring daggers, What the fuck are you even talking about? Towhee and I are fine. Whose - whose being rejected? I live here, you twat. Come on, if you're going to insult me you gotta be better than that. He had no idea what she was going on about but maybe this would force her to stop and think, or just give up and leave.

Running all-out like that and failing really spoiled the mood.

Her face smarted further from his slap, and her pride flared within her. 

What he said ought to have redeemed him, but Clover had determined she did not believe a single word that came out from his beautiful fuckin' face, that gorgeous idiot, and after he finished Clover engaged him with a huff: why doncha try talking with words instead of youR FUCKIN DIRTY LIES!!!! She demanded. 

As he called her trash, and launched into a whole other tirade, Clover looked at her beautiful garbage angel and yelled: WHO AM I? I HAVE ONE NAME. I'VE LIVED WITH MY FAMILY MY WHOLE LIFE, UNLIKE YOU. WHO ARE YOU? SCREECH? TITMOUSE? SCREECHIN' TIT? CRYBABY? PICK A FUCKING NAME, SHITBAG!!!! She scoffed. You let everyone down!! You ran away! You're bad. I saw how you looked at her, heard how you talked to her, even though my sister Towhee didn't, she snarled. As for who she was talking about before, she didn't really know, she only wanted to get under his skin. Since that route didn't work, she tried another: Why are you still here? You're only gonna run away again when things get tough, Clover bet. And oh, would things get tough.

She spat words at him that just made him squint harder, pace more, and the urge to smash was rising. He would've turned in to a giant green monster by now if he was capable, but instead he was stuck as his puny one-eyed self, being berated by this idiot yearling that thought they had all the answers. Was every Blackthorn like this? Or was this just a kid thing? Was he like this -- ?

Don't answer that.

Nothing she said was that shocking or anything, so he took it all in - this cascade of ridiculousness - until she came to the root of her issue: this concept that he'd fly the coop if anything were to happen. Clearly she didn't understand what kept him here to begin with. She didn't know him (nor what he'd been through to reach this place and make it his own), and it showed during her stupid tantrum.

You're seriously retarded. Definitely a Blackthorn - maybe not a Finwood kid, probably closer to a Coltley. Fuckin' inbred trash, Okay keep it together Screech.

FIRST OF ALL — What goes down between me and my sister is none of your fuckin' business, he couldn't help but step closer as he said this, and was soon squaring off face-to-face with his head lowered defensively (not that he'd meant to make this an actual fight) so that they looked like two of those dome-headed dinosaurs ready to square off. SECONDLY, I had a broken leg when you guys were talking about going to war with Blackfucker Woods, so of course I'd leave. He took a breath. AND FINALLY IF YOU WOULD JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP — maybe this was the moment where the author would squish two humans together for an awkward (and vaguely nonconsentual) tryst but there was no such possibility here; he was too close to her but too angry to notice: — I'm here because THIS IS MY HOME. You are the assholes who invaded. I was here first!

Clover bristled as he spoke, defensively interjecting: COLT IS FUCKING AMAZING! (which would not do her any favors), and her tail lashed behind her as he spoke and, oh, inbred trash, oH NO. 

She could not believe her ears. YES IT IS, she decreed in turn, taking a step forward after he did, breathing hotly in his face. She was a short fuse, but fuck this fucker, he would hear her, he would listen to her!!!! Of course, she could hardly do the same for him, and rolled her eyes and interjected every opportunity she could: wrong, he wasn't her brother, wrong again, it was her business—

And as he spoke about a broken leg, Clover snorted. I wanted to fight and I was a kid so I wasn't allowed. You prolly would have just come with us, you little ass bitch, but you and your broken leg somehow traveled to a land far the fuck away, where you became Screech, insert eye roll here—

She observed he was delightfully close, what if she leaned in a little bit closer????, NO CLOVER—

First shmirst. Towhee baasically kicked your ass. You ran away. You gave us the place, she said with a cheeky little grin.

That first point they could agree on, but Screech wasn't going to ease up now. She concluded that he was just some pissbaby who ran from a fight, and then failed to defend his own home (which was sort-of true, again) and all he could do was shout back, You weren't allowed to fight because you would've been killed, dipshit. I was supposed to guide you guys away from the fight but I couldn't. He didn't want to rehash the whole Galaxy thing again so he went with the story that his leg was broken; except that it had healed enough for him to run away at that point (again proving Clover right, ahem).

Towhee dragged your tiny brothers and sisters across half the known world and I wasn't about to fight her, plus her Blackthorn lackeys over it. Seriously kid, what is your beef? You hate me because Towhee and I had an argument? You're fucking serious about that? He leaned in a little closer without thinking and his head bonked her's, but he didn't withdraw.

Kid, I don't care what you believe but you better stay the fuck out of my way next time I'm doin' my job. Its not my fault if your little shit-stain siblings get eaten by the next coyote. He shifted then, pushing against her shoulder-to-shoulder so that she would be thrust out of the way (ooh contact!) and made to stomp around her.

As he finished his first sentence, Clover added without missing a beat: because you ran away like a little bitch, which I said. Clover really didn't remember a broken leg, but then again, when she had first seen him running away she had believed he was going to fight the good fight early on, get a good headstart. Now she knew differently, of course, and her life heroes had been aligned differently. 

Uh, yeah, you were, she started, remembering that conversation at least. You just didn't follow through. Then y'came back with your tail tucked, 'cause you knew you couldn't get on this patch of land without us anymore, she snorted. Clover wasn't smart enough to think of sabotage, subterfuge, or anything else as a motivation, but she did believe he genuinely wanted to get back at Towhee in some way. You didn't just make talk the talk and not walk the walk (she thought of how she was, here, not how he differed completely from her. There were reasons ingrained in him from his own life experiences that would make him different; Clover was hardly intelligent enough to think objectively). 

For the first and probably last time, she let him finish. Her heart went straight to her throat as he pressed against her (oh, sweet mother Mary!!!), before she rushed to cut his path off to set the record straight—he should know. She had told Niamh, and now, she would tell him. Her feelings weren't a mystery, and now neither would her reasoning be that way.  
 
No, she pressed. I hate you because you left. Broken leg or not, you were family. We're supposed to take care of each other, be there for each other. Then, you fought my dad???? Fuck you, my dad is the best fucking dad in the whole fucking world. He wouldn't hurt a fly. So I know you're fifty shades of fucked up, and I don't trust you. That's why I hate you, she spat, bristling. I don't know you. The only thing I do know is that you're the only shitstain the Caldera has ever known. If you fuck up, you'll be downgraded to bloodstain, capiche? Her ears pressed forward as she finished, and once she did she could not help but feel that his words about the coyote were some veiled threat, and with that thought in mind she stomped off in the direction of her family den, fuming.

The conversation - if you could call it that - veered in another direction; this was like chasing the coyote all over again but verbally and without backup. She was abruptly calling him out for an event that she'd only heard about and now witnessed. That must've been his biggest peeve about the whole thing: the fact that these kids had unfounded opinions about things that transpired outside of their realm of influence. They weren't there, they didn't know what he had been going through at the time.

Her threat was obvious — and she pirouetted while Screech was trying to get his thoughts in order, and began to stomp away. Screech wasn't done yet. Hey, fuck you! He shouted after her, but was already striding to get around and cut her off so that they could finish this shit-show of an argument that she'd started (obviously he didn't start this, no way man).

Get your facts straight, kid. He snapped, but otherwise his voice was much more level than before, like he was running out of steam. Judging by Clover's expression she was running on fumes too. I was a captive of the Woods, but one of their members rescued me — got me home. Your dad wanted to drive them away. So yeah, I might've reacted badly, like was doing now (but to be fair, this was getting pretty tame) But I was angry, I was hurting, and he was trying to drive my friend away without good reason.

Screech didn't know how many more times he could rehash the same information before people started to believe him; at this point he just wanted to clear the air, but even as he said these things he sort-of knew Clover wouldn't care. She was indoctrinated to the "Everybody Hates Screech" cult. He just sighed and moved, stepping around her again so that he wasn't blocking her path. Now she could go — he'd let her.