Little did Screech know, Ceara was both a Blackthorn and an idiot kid.

She did not notice him even as she crossed his path on patrol.  His scent was one of many that mingled in and out of the borders with frequency, and it was not irregular that she even caught a fresh whiff.  He only grabbed her attention when he called out to her —

"uh -- hey!"

— and time seemed to slow as she was pulled from her thoughts.  He sounded like he was miles away, or underwater.  Instead, she found her packmate across the gentle swaying reeds, and she sped up to close some of the distance between them without thinking about it too much.  She really couldn't get a good look at him from here, but from what she could tell he was swathed in a palatable shade of gray.

Oh, um, hey! she called back dumbly, What's up?  She slowed down as she got close enough to inspect him fully — if his scars took her by surprise, she did not let on.

Ceara thought he was joking, or maybe it was like one of those crummy pick-up lines that nobody ever actually used.  She couldn't tell if he was trying to be smooth or casual, or if he was trying too hard or just enough.  I live here, she said unceremoniously as the corner of her lip twitched upwards.

Whoa-hoh-man, this dude was forward!  Not that it was unnatural, but she had become accustomed to having some kind of personal space that it took her off guard.  The fur along her spine came to life, but quickly she swallowed her discomfort and gave this new boy the same kind of treatment.  Her nose first probed the bulb of flesh behind one of his ears then trailed down his neck, the soft leather of her nostrils working at the splash of ashen guard hairs between his shoulders.  The wildfire girl nosed down his flank and pulled away as she met his hip.

Um, she stuttered, not quite knowing what to make of his response.  Why would being orange be a bad thing, like, ever?  Was she pretty?  I haven't seen anyone like you before, either.  Her gut began to roll as she searched for a more put-together response.  Who're you?

His one, hawkish golden eye bored into her for perhaps a moment longer than was socially acceptable.  Heat crept from  her stomach to her chest, straight up to her ears.  She had never been so interesting to someone — usually, her big fat mouth screwed it up for her before someone even had time to think she was pretty.

Not that this boy thought she was pretty.  But she liked to think that maybe he did — something incredibly foriegn to the late-bloomer.  She had never wanted to be an object of desire, and it still admittedly weirded her out.  But other girls liked it, and she was curious as to what that was all about.

Ceara.  Um, Blackthorn.  Her tail wagged behind her amiably, though for a moment she couldn't meet his gaze.  Do you wanna, maybe, patrol with me?

She watched his expression melt and it twisted something in her gut she didn't even know was there.  She'd already been hurt enough by seeing Tuathal again, and then apparently her being a Blackthorn was a problem even though the pack was like, ninety percent Blackthorns.  Um, yeah, really.  Is that a problem?  Her voice was a touch too wistful for her taste.  I'm sorry, I guess.

She cleared her throat and began to walk.  You can come with me still, if you want.  Or not.

For a moment it seemed as if Screech wasn't going to follow her.  Whatever, she thought, he was fucking weird enough that she was probably better without his company (even if she kind of really wanted him to stick around against her better judgment).  

But then he was coming up fast behind her and agreeing to go on a patrol.  She flicked her tail and looked over her shoulder at him and offered that same characteristic lopsided smirk.  Alright, wonder boy, you lead the way.  It didn't matter if she had or hadn't seen the place (which she totally hadn't), she just didn't want to be the one taking the reins for a minute.

I don't seem to have much luck with 'em either, she admitted as she rolled her shoulders.  Tuathal had more of a quick-trigger temper than even his firebrand sister.  Colt had seemed to be the only one who could handle her so far — and even he warned her that there would be a few here who might not be into her attitude.

But I don't know much about whatever they've got against you, either.  Nobody's told me anything.  I've only met an older sister and an uncle.  If you were expecting an enemy, I'm sorry.  But I don't get bothered by much unless it happens to me..  If the Blackthorns hated Screech, then whatever.  They could hate him.  But she kind of had a justice boner and a thing for equality — he'd have to personally fuck up beyond the extent of just being creepy for her to hate him.  

So, what's good?  Have you been to the orchard yet?  Apples were apparently Ceara's new favorite conversation topic.

Well, looked like she was leading again, but that was fine.  Yeah.  There's this place on one side of the Plateau with a bunch of apples.  I brought some back with me when Raven recruited me, and put them in the cache.  We can go try them, or we can go to the orchard itself.  She rolled her shoulders to indicate that she really didn't have a preference, but added, But the orchard smells like, really good.  The trees should be blooming, too.  Flowers.

Not that boys had ever been into that kind of shit, not around her anyway.  So it's up to you.