Sleep felt so strange these days — so short, and giving the distinct impression that something should be happening each time he woke up. Some semblance of a routine had set in; he knew to expect the golden girl's absence in the morning, sometimes a visit in the midday, and always an early rest at night. She fed him. He was watered. Much like a seed which had been laid to rest in the soil, he was tended to — and slowly, maybe he was recovering. It didn't feel right, though. The visits from Niamh's doppleganger became so common that his anxiety began to lessen, and even when Raven would visit, the boy had grown complacent.
He hadn't spoken yet, which was a drastic change from before the accident. It was possible that speech would never return to him — but there was time. At least now he could eat, he could drink, he could sometimes sleep (in firts and starts, no more than a few minutes at a time), and with the constant attention of the others, his body had begun showing signs of proper health. He had more energy - which is what prompted another change, a vital one.
The humid summer was hardly inviting, but the beaming sun was too warm, and being stuck in the would-be grave only served to dehydrate the body he inhabited. With a few awkward attempts out of the way, the boy piloted Screech's body out of the opening of the den. He sagged beneath a nearby tree as soon as he was able. It took too much effort and thoroughly exhausted him, but at least he had been able to move — to find shade, out where the summer breeze could tousle his graycast coat.
After a few glances at the deep and shifting shadows, he realized he didn't know what to do next, and was stranded.
After another unsuccessful hunt, Niamh wlked slowly back toward her den, hoping that a brief rest might do her a bit of good, and give her the energy she needed to go for another hunt. The heat in the late spring was promising to lead to a hot and dry summer, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to it- as much as she hated the cold and snow of winter. Exhausted racked her frame, and her spine sagged slightly as she meandered along the creekside toward her den, and had to do a double take when she saw a grey figure lying outside.
She hadn't noticed him at first- so tired she was, and had stuck her head inside the den before it registered that that was Screech laying outside in the shade. "What!" She exclaimed, whipping around so fast she almost lost her footing. She trotted over to him, not sure whether to be happy he'd made it out of the den, or stressed, because it probably tired him out to do so. He still had that vague, slightly vacant look on his features. "What're you doing out here, dude?" She asked softly, sitting down beside him. She glanced up at the tree branches above, then back down to where he lay in the shade. "Wanted some fresh air, or?" She asked. Still- though he hadn't spoken yet, she hoped for an answer one of these days.
Ceara had been pointedly avoiding Screech. Not that it was hard mind you; she didn't dare step foot near Niamh's den again because Niamh was Niamh, and Screech... probably didn't think Ceara had been helping at all. Niamh certainly didn't seem to think so, and Screech was directly under her care. Why would he?
Even though it was no fault of the boy's own, she didn't want to cause any drama for him.
She did, however, take to patrolling a good distance from Niamh's den, and it was there she saw.. was that Tegan? No, wait. Was that Screech? She hurried over to his weary and ragged form, wondering what the hell he was doing out of the den and why he was alone. But before she could get there, Niamh had already swooped in and in an effort to avoid further drama, she did a 180 and made an attempt to swoop out without notice.
Much of what he saw was darkness, which made total sense considering the lack of an eye, but it was almost like he'd forgotten about that — the shadows undulated as the breeze pulled its way through the leaves overhead. There was a sound nearby, and it took him a moment to register it - or maybe he heard it and just didn't think to look around until the golden girl had closed much of the gap, but he didn't notice her until she was beside him. It should've surprised him but instead Screech's ears turned to catch her words, and he didn't make a sound.
He did not notice the other wolf lingering nearby, nor her attempted escape from potential drama — but Screech's nose twitched idly as it caught a scent, and the boy turned lazily in Fire's direction, seemingly interested all of a sudden but soundless all the same. Screech's mouth opened as if he was about to employ that under-used voice box, but all that came out was a tongue as he began to pant.
She got a bit of a reaction from him, but his movements were more passive than anything. She'd wondered a couple times if he even could hear her- if maybe his hearing had been damaged, or something along those lines, but he did show some response to sound so obviously he wasn't deaf. It was as though he was buried somewhere deep within the recesses of his own mind, and simply reacted to things without really registering them. He was pure instinct, as far as she could tell, and more or less devoid of personality.
When he turned, she did too, and the hackles along the back of her neck lifted when she saw Ceara spin on her heel and move away. She watched the fiery female begin to leave, and momentarily bared her teeth even though Ceara wouldn't have seen her do so...But she looked at Screech, who was watching Ceara with something akin to interest...And that was more expression than she usually got from him.
"Wait." She called out, albeit a bit begrudgingly. She didn't say anything else, because she wasn't entirely sure she wanted Ceara to stop. She lowered her head to lick Screech's brow, smoothing the grey fur there as she often did. She slid another glance to Ceara, half hoping she'd just keep going, but at least she'd tried...Sort of.
"Wait."
It didn't sound like she really wanted her to wait, though. She turned back around but didn't move closer, and her posture was neutral and statuesque as she regarded the butterscotch girl.
What now? Did Niamh think that she had lured Screech out of the den and had set out to do all kinds of nefarious things to the poor invalid?
She made a noise in her throat, Hm?
in response, because maybe if she didn't say anything at all it couldn't be misconstrued and twisted around. Her brow was raised as Niamh tended to screech so tenderly — something she did not want to watch — and she impatiently waited for some kind of reponse.
He didn't do much when the golden girl turned and pressed affectionately upon his brow, he merely stared with a sleepiness that hadn't yet shaken in the directon of the ruddy girl; subtly, he rejected Niamh's attention by shifting his weight and letting Screech's eyes drift along, and as his gaze landed on the distant lick of flame on the periphery of his vision, he affixed his gaze upon Ceara. He watched her, maybe recognizing her from the odd moment before - when they'd slept in the den together, short and faraway as that moment in time had been - and the stranger (for that is what he felt like) stopped gasping for relief from the sunlight. His jaw seemed to tense as he closed his mouth, but he still said nothing, and merely stared.
Niamh was unimpressed when Ceara stopped and turned to look her way. Screech was complacent, but kept watching Ceara, and if Ceara had been out of earshot, she might have gently nudged his muzzle in a different direction, as she didn't like the fact that he was staring at her the way he was. Did he have no appreciation for her whatsoever? Did he really take more interest in Ceara than he did in her? After all she'd done for him...It just seemed wrong.
She stood up when Ceara shifted her attention to her, and she had to try, visibly, to keep herself from stiffening. "You can visit him." She said, but it was obvious that she had some conditions. "But do not just wander into my den. Raven's the only one who can come in without asking." She warned. She wanted to continue speaking- tell Ceara it was just common sense not to barge into someone else's living space without knocking. She stiffened and lifted her head. "I overreacted, that day. I'll admit that. But you spooked me when you just...Barged in. That wasn't cool." She said. "And I know you were in my den another day while I was out...Which I do not appreciate. Kindly, do not do that again." She said. Her voice was level, but she was very clear about how she felt when Ceara had decided to make herself at home in Niamh's den. Wolves generally didn't den up unless they were having pups- but Niamh liked the comfort of having an underground living space...It was her space, and she didn't exactly like having company in there to begin with- but Screech and Raven had become exceptions. She didn't say any more- even though there were many other things she wanted to say...But she wanted to see how Ceara took that in first, before she made any decisions.
She stared back at Screech as Niamh scolded her. All she'd wanted was an apology, but it just looked as if once again Niamh was going to pretend that Ceara was the only one who'd done any wrong. Even if she admitted she had overreacted, the main focus was on Ceara and how much she'd fucked up.
All I'd intended on doing was dropping off the duck. Dude startled me by being, I dunno, awake. I think we both overreacted.
She gave a stiff shrug of her shoulders. And I had stopped by just to drop off more food. I didn't intend on sticking around but wonder boy over there launched himself at the duck and almost choked himself to death. So I'm sorry that I encroached on your space, but I didn't want to leave him there.. you know.. just choking.
She tensed internally for a second. I don't know. Maybe you could move him somewhere more communal that he's being more coherent. That way you can have your own space to decompress, and you don't have to worry about his visitors.
She was worried that somehow that was going to get twisted around too, like she was saying something she wasn't.. but really, she was trying to save Niamh (and herself) some more headache. Just a thought. Not a demand or anything.
The more they spoke, the more heated things became. To the stranger, the words meant next to nothing. They were just sounds - inflections without meaning - and for the first few seconds, it all sounded like it was white noise anyways. The tension was what he picked up on. The bristling of the bright girl standing guard beside him, and then the defensiveness in the tone of the striped girl. The boy's reaction remained wordless, but he adjusted again, lifting himself to a precarious seated position for a moment, and the body's limbs trembled with the effort, limited though it was.
Maybe he had picked up on their dislike of one another — perhaps it was so obvious that even the mentally stunted boy had managed to take notice — but he lurched, and seemed to place himself between them both, like a barrier; to protect Niamh or Fire — either way, he was suddenly there, and that's when his weakened limbs gave out again. Whether it had been an effort to dissuade further argument or, quite possibly, the stranger's desire to escape the confining situation that he'd found himself in, remained obscure.
Ceara gave her excuses, but Niamh didn't want to hear them. She was surprised to hear that Screech had nearly choked on a duck, and that didn't sit well with Niamh. "That's why I didn't want your involvement. You went into my den without permission, and didn't tear his food up for him. He wouldn't have choked at all if you'd just left the food outside. Raven and I are caring for him; I appreciate the help with hunting, but everything else- leave it to us. You don't know what he needs. You made an assumption once, and apparently it nearly killed him. I know you had good intentions but...Because you trespassed, you endangered him. That's why I warned you to stay away." She was mildly irritated now, but more exhausted than anything. She'd confessed, then, that she had endangered Screech when she'd visited last, by not tearing his food up before giving it to him, and it solidified Niamh's belief that she shouldn't be around him. Her ears turned back. Couldn't Ceara just apologize for trespassing? It wouldn't have been that hard. Niamh was doing her best to wean it out of her, if she possibly could.
Ceara suggested she put him in a communal den, and she shook her head. "Not yet. Not if it means others will make the same mistake you did and nearly kill him with kindness." She said. "He's...." She began, and she trailed off, when he stood up, moved to separate them before he fell, and she moved in, shunting her shoulder beneath his to slow his fall to the ground. One warning look from her was given to Ceara, as she didn't want the female to rush in to help, not now that Screech was settled back on the ground again. She frowned. He wanted to move, which was good, but he didn't have the strength.
"He's my charge. It's my fault that he ended up this way." She said, gritting her teeth. She avoided eye contact with Ceara, and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. It was tough, admitting her fault, especially to Ceara. But at the same time- as she'd noticed when she'd confessed her guilty truth to Quixote, it was somewhat freeing. The others knew that Niamh and Screech had collided, and that in truth, it wasn't necessarily Niamh's fault...But she couldn't help but feel like it was, even if he was the one who'd lowered his head to ram her. "I'll be damned if I let anything else happen to him."
I'm sorry, but you're the one who just made an assumption. I did tear it up for him. I'd really like it if you could stop accusing me of things that you weren't there to witness.
Screech launched himself between them, and although she wanted to help she just shifted uncomfortably as Niamh glared at her.
I feel like you're treating me really unfairly, Niamh. I'm going to go now. It's obvious you don't want me around.
And so long as she was allowed to, she'd be on her way. She wasn't going to sit around and be accused of things, she wasn't going to take being called ignorant.
He hit the dirt despite Niamh's best efforts to prevent further injury, but at least with her aid the body landed without incident. As he adjusted to this new position the stranger glanced first to Niamh, then the retreating Ceara, both of which earned little regard aside from the drifting of Screech's eye.
He tried to lift the body again, positioning limbs that quaked, only to fall against Niamh again; in doing so he let out an unbidden yelp — sharply cutting through the air and startling a few songbirds from their hiding places in the tall grass. Brief flashes of orange-on-black fluttered around the pair of wolves, with the stranger leaning away from Niamh at the earliest convenience as if she'd harmed the vessel of the body in some way.
Niamh had to try very hard to avoid rolling her eyes when Ceara nisisted that she'd torn the meat up into small pieces. As far as Niamh was concerned, Ceara was a liar, and now she was just being defensive, and making up more lies to cover up the fact that she'd nearly caused Screech to choke to death. "Oh, sure. If you did, obviously they weren't small enough. And tell me this- did you offer the pieces one by one, or just put all of it in front of him?" She challenged, watching Ceara to see if she could catch her in a lie. Raven had warned her against putting too much food in front of Screech- he couldn't control himself. "Whatever you did, you didn't know what you were doing, and you could've caused him even more harm."
Niamh moved closer to Screech when he began to stand again, and this time, when he fell sideways, he collided directly with her and let out a high pitched yelp. She winced, but Screech had lost a fair amount of weight- and he'd been fairly scrawny to begin with, when she'd first met him- so she wasn't hurt when he stumbled against her. He stood on his own- albeit a bit off kilter, and she wished he would just lay down again and relax. He wouldn't likely listen to her words, anyway. She stared at Ceara over Screech's shoulder.
"Unfairly? I'm just telling you why I got pissed off at you. I'm sorry if I overreacted, but you fucking spooked me, man, and you couldn't have had worse timing. You just barged in and that ruffles my feathers. Now you know. Please don't do it again. And don't...Don't try to do anything with him if you don't know what you're doing." She said, and her tone softened. "Please...Like...If he had choked to death, when you'd been with him..." She said, and looked to Screech; the poor, pathetic boy who was somehow stuck between two stubborn, warring women. She shook her head. "I just...I can't stand the thought of losing him. I'm stupid overprotective of him right now...I know that." She said, a tired frown causing her lips to tremble slightly. "My nerves are shot. I'm still concussed, and you spooked me when you came into my den, and with him waking up, I was just...Overwhelmed. And my brain is still fried, and I couldn't handle you being sassy with me the other day...I just wanted to know what you were digging. It looked like....Neat." She said, and shrugged awkwardly.
The noises persisted, but it was only Niamh and the stranger now; the girl of fire was gone. The boy had been distracted by something - whatever had spooked him about falling that second time - and didn't notice. When finally there was silence, he seemed to relax, but still the body resisted contact with the golden girl.
Something about her — the solidity of her body perhaps — caused the boy's face to contort with a confused expression; but once they were alone together, and things were calm, he also appeared to relax. He looked at her with a drift of Screech's face, but this time the singular eye caught upon her features and seemed to focus.
All he did was frown, as if in disapproval.
Ceara left, leaving Niamh alone with what would have been an apology. She looked to Screech, who seemed to calm down and relax, rather than continuously trying to move...And she had picked up on the fact that he had been trying to move away from her, and toward Ceara. She didn't like it- not one bit. The way he looked at her, she could only imagine that he intended to frown, that he intended to look at her with that one gleaming eye and tell her, with just his facial features, that he was disappointed in her, and it was enough to finally make Niamh break down.
She slid to the ground beside him, buried her face her in her paws, and flattened her ears. "I've let you down," She moaned. "In every way possible. I'm so sorry, Screech," She said, and sniffled lightly, so when she lifted her head from her paws, the tears rolled down her cheeks. "You must just hate me."
Whether the stranger could feel hatred or not was yet to be seen. If he felt anything for the golden caretaker, it remained as lost within him as everything else. Niamh melted before him — she spoke, and the white noise held sadness now rather than tension and aggression. He watched her without any indication of care upon Screech's face.
Through the white nose, he heard her murmuring, — so sorry —
and even, —must hate me,
but this too warranted little response.
Except when Screech's legs seemed to lose their ability to keep the body standing, and he melted beside her. He did not move to comfort her, but he was present, for just a moment — chuffing softly, and reaching — but then he seemed to forget what he was doing mid-action, and his attention drifted back to the tree's many layers.
Raven had been on her way to check on Screech -- as had been her daily routine since he'd initially been concussed -- when the sound of raised voices reached her ears some distance from Niamh's den. The two voices were unmistakeable: Niamh and Ceara were going at it again. She lingered for a time and listened, the line of sight to her dark form broken by a low cluster of bushes and saplings, until Ceara turned and walked off.
It was then that she walked the rest of the way to Niamh's den. She could not shake the overarching sense of gratitude she felt toward the honey-colored gamma for the care and attention she'd given to Screech, but she was aggravated that the tensions were continuing to persist. Niamh's protectiveness over Screech didn't make much sense, but beyond that, there was no reason for her aggression toward Ceara -- who only wished to help.
She approached the pair of them, who were huddled together on the ground, and her voice -- as always -- was soft, but there was the barest hint of an authoritative edge in its tone as well. "This has become a problem," she said to Niamh. "I think it's time Screech was moved someplace less...contentious than this."
Screech fell against her, his light frame felt as though it felt softly but it was impossible to tell. He didn't react, he simply stayed where he was, his one eye still silent but judgemental. She heard someone approach, but didn't move, and didn't look up. She was safe by Screech's side, and he was safe beside her, and by the scent, she could tell that it was Raven. Her heart ached; had Quixote spoken to her? Or had Ceara? And whose story did she believe.
When she suggested that Screech be moved elsewhere, she lifted her head, worry and panic causing her eyes to widen, as she flattened her ears. "But..." She said, and she gulped. She didn't want anything to happen to him..."What if something happens? Ceara fed him wrong and he choked...He almost died, again...What if something happens?" She said, tone pleading. She was desperate, and she whined, ready to beg Raven to change her mind if she needed to. "Please...It's my fault he's like this...I can't...I can't lose him." She said, ribs racked with ugly, sobbing breaths that she struggled to control. She shook, overwhelmed by the fear that something horrible might become of Screech. Her anxiety was completely unfounded- but she couldn't help it. She hadn't been prepared for this- she hadn't been ready for the mess of emotions she would be, simply from a good crack to the skull. It was all too much, and all she could feel was fear and anxiety. She tried to plead with Raven, but she could do nothing but sob.
formatting is a bit wonky but i didnt know what word to use so its just like... choose your own adventure! or something. im tired. idk. flaps hands.
In this new reality where things happened slowly and deliberately, where the passage of time took aeons, and where he was left to suffer endlessly through recovery at a seemingly stationary rate, there was little he could do but let things unfold. The stranger knew this by now. He knew he couldn't understand the white noise. That he was weaker than he should've been. That the girl with Niamh's face — and the other one, Ceara, who should've been a pile of ashes — they were not real. They were not alive. Yet when confronted with the obvious fact that this girl — this Niamh look-alike — was real it had been a confusing discovery. She was solid, she was hurting, and the longer he lingered at her side the more firm that belief became.
But it wasn't until the dark shape took form, striding towards the den mouth and then veering towards both Niamh and the prone stranger, that he really understood; perhaps his inability to connect with her had been because he'd thought of her only as a figment. Maybe, too, he reacted to her slowly and with concern because she was real, and it was hard to grasp that the withering, burning, vanishing death he had witness had been the falsehood.
The shadow swept in close; he could hear sounds, make out some words, but it was Niamh's tearful begging that roused something from Screech's body. He was exhausted from the trek outside of the den, confused by the arguments that surrounded him and filled Screech's ears like booming chaos; but it was the sight of Niamh begging and crying that finally brought about a response: the creature within felt the threat of the dark figure and, cushioned in an instinctive loathing of the shadows he had been fighting in his dream-state, the stranger reacted by standing and lunging between the girl of light and the strange specter — lips pulled back to expose teeth that flashed brightly in the sunlight, and a beastly roar erupted from the mindless boy, eager to stop the darkness from returning to take her light away again.
This was no shadow, but he was unable to tell the difference — so it was that the stranger piloted Screech's body, and the full brunt of his many teeth, towards his [leader, sister, mother,] he once loved so dearly.
Niamh almost immediately crumbled into sobs, and Raven felt a tug at her heartstrings. This was the part of leadership she hadn't wanted -- making crappy decisions that upset the wolves who worked so hard to serve her and the pack. She cringed on the inside, and while she did her best to maintain a neutral demeanor, her face and eyes softened at the sight of Niamh's sorrow.
She started to open her mouth to tell Niamh she had changed her mind -- that Screech could remain here, as long as some things were handled differently moving forward. But she never got the chance to get the words out of her mouth. A lightning bolt of vicious teeth suddenly struck the pregnant alpha in the face, driving her backward with the full force of Screech's body weight behind it. She was bowled over by his attack, wrenched around and slammed down onto her back, and she felt teeth slashing at her muzzle, her throat, her legs...everywhere. A screaming snarl burst from her throat and rang out through the surrounding area as she fought back, her own teeth ripping at whatever piece of her brother they could reach.
Nothing could have prepared Niamh for what happened next. One moment, Screech was by her side, subdued and as distant and cold as he'd been, generally, since he'd awakened from his coma, but the next moment...She was laying beside a feral beast, who, once she had finished pleading with Raven, bared his teeth in a greusome grimace and snarled with the ferocity of a cornered mountain lion. Raven's features had been gentle, motherly- but the reaction she got from Screech was horrific. Before Niamh could do anything but open her mouth in surprise, Screech had found some energy that surrendered itself for his use and he launched himself at the alpha female, jaws snapping.
"No!" She cried, as Screech collided with Raven and continued to snap at her after he'd bowled her over. Niamh did not know what to do- Screech was injured and weak, but all of a sudden, he was attacking Raven with the intent to kill. Not knowing what else to do, she howled, briefly- an ear-splitting cry that lasted only the amount of time it took her to hget to her feet as she cried out with a sudden, wild desperation before she launched herself at Screech. Raven had been knocked clean over, and blood was already pooling on the ground beneath her. Niamh silently leapt directly at Screech's side, aiming to hit him square in the ribs and shove him off with sheer momentum so that he could no longer bite Raven.
She heard something in the distance. At first it was a rumble, and then it was a roar, and Ceara had not angrily stalked far enough away for something of that decibel to be out of earshot. She turned on a dime and barreled towards the scene she had left.
As she was already on her way, she heard what sounded like Raven scream, and Niamh sent up an earth-shaking wail. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she full-on sprinted towards the scene, and before she arrived the heavy iron scent of blood hit her like a wall.
No. She had a split second to digest what she saw — Screech on top of the very pregnant Raven. As Niamh bashed into Screech's side, she met the dull gold gaze of the other girl and grabbed the boy's scruff, and as a team they pulled the Kappa from on top of the matriarch.
She held fast to him, jaws clamped firmly in case of retaliation as a dangerous, rippling growl forced its way from her throat. She cast Niamh a triumphant look with a congratulatory glint in her eye. What's gonna work? Teamwork.
Teeth met shadow, and the stranger expected his assault to do nothing; he expected, maybe, even that he might meld with the darkness and have it overtake him. He wanted that most of all — to be asleep, to be taken back and to have the days start again, as they had in the many hours before he had initially woken. He wanted the coma to return to him (without realizing of course, that it was a coma that had saved him from dangerous harm to the brain, or that he had been hallucinating all of those deep dream-states, one after another).
Most of all, he wanted to protect Niamh. He had seen her die — he had seen Ceara die too — and when he looked at the shadow, the stranger saw only the melting ink-face of the child at the lakeside.
It was Screech's teeth that met resistance first. Screech's tongue that tasted blood, and ears that heard the screams. The ensuing chaos pulled the stranger from his assault; Ceara at his forequarter proving how alive she was with a strong grip to his scruff, Niamh bowling in to his ribs. He was sent tumbling and sprawling sideways, where the body hit the dirt and the breath wheezed out of him; with it went the urge to protect Niamh, and he could only stare sidelong and wild at the towering bodies looming over him.
Qui was somewhere across the plateau, probably peeing on something. Very exciting, no?
Anyway, that howl definitely got his attention, and he sprinted off in that general direction, not sure what he was going to find or even if he was 100% going the right way. That was Niamh, wasn't it? Did something attack Screech? Had he gone nuts after getting beaned on the head? Hell if he knew, but he was heading that way, with no idea that Raven was even tangentially involved. At least not yet. As he got closer, he crossed over Raven's scent Wait, wasn't this about when she normally headed over there? Oh no. He increased his pace.
He followed her trail, soon stumbling upon the scene. The two girls that had apparently hated each other were now both surrounding Screech in a not particularly friendly way and his face was crimson. Raven was also on the ground, and both from the scent that wafted his way and the dark liquid glint on her fur, she was the one that had been hurt. What the hell happened here.
His fur was fully on end as he closed that last bit of distance, though he growled, he wasn't sure where to point his anger -- it seemed to be over. Unsurprisingly, Quixote wanted to lash out at Screech and beat the snot out of the punk, but he was just laying there. Though his lips had peeled back and he glared daggers at the prone boy, Quixote was very very unsure if he should do more. A head injury wasn't an excuse for this. Quixote halted like a wall between Raven and Screech, assessing the youth as a danger for one more second before turning his attention to his mate. There weren't really any words that really needed to be said, right? It would be obvious what he would want to know from anyone present.
As much as he would have been happy just killing Screech so they wouldn't have to worry about this ever happening again, Raven was far more important. Quixote whined, leaning in to start cleaning up her wounds, to see what damage that unstable freak had done to her. With Raven there was no hesitation doing so, though his eyes burned with both concern and the injustice of having been denied quick vengeance for this calamity.
Add another black wolf to Screech's "hated by" list.