Meadowlark Prairie rancid dinner with the pope

@Indra

He'd slept poorly after returning home - maybe getting an hour in before getting startled awake - but by the time Screech had fallen asleep it had been nearly morning anyways. He got to his feet wearily and dragged himself away from any chance of contact, heading towards the outskirts of the territory.

His head was pounding; the daylight stung at his eyes and every step he took felt like it was jostling the rest of his body too much, and he wondered if maybe he'd contracted some sort of disease from the dead girl - but it was probably just his freshly broken nose courtesy of his own stupidity. The thought flit through his mind like he was thinking about nothing more than a chunk of meat from a cache. This realization soured his mood even further. It churned Screech's stomach when he realized how detached he'd become.

The boy had half a mind to find Cassiopeia. Maybe she would have some insights in regard to how he was feeling - she had been a Blackfeather wolf, after all. They were crazy people. Killers. Maybe she'd witnessed something? He tripped himself up in that thought - maybe she'd killed someone herself. Screech froze where he was, swallowing a lump in his throat, and then shook his head as if that would remove such a weird thought from it by force - and kept walking.

He was nowhere near the Haunted Wood where he'd last seen her. In fact, he was crossing through the meadow where they'd first met, erring on the side of caution and keeping close to the eastern edge where the grasslands became the mesa.

pickings across the mesa had been slim -- but not for lack of life. as if mother nature had a cruel sense of irony, there was no shortage of small birds fluttering across the flatlands. indra had watched them hungrily - some finches, some grouse -- an intelligent and sleek black starling trilling on a slender reed -- every one of them relentlessly and unfairly out of capture range.

she was not quick enough to down quarry armed by wings -- many eluded her attempts -- and finally, fed up by the fruitless endeavor, she set her sights to finding some source of water along the prairie. it was then she spotted a lone figure cutting across the mesa. for a moment he appeared to be motionless -- indra squinted as his obscured form came into better view.

there was no use in hiding -- the meadow afforded little shelter -- and with a slow ambling gait she made her way to the storm-grey wolf with her posture neutral and expression somewhat friendly. for reason she could not discern, she thought his muzzle looked somewhat swollen. "hi."

It was way too bright out here. The snow that had collected across the meadow seemed to also cling to the exposed surfaces of the various plateaus, all of which reflected too much light in to his eyes. The boy squinted as he walked, although it did not help the tension headache that had been brewing since his bout with Towhee. When he stepped across a gap and found the ground elevating, the sudden shift made something go wonky in his head and he swayed a little, only to return to more even ground within seconds in an effort to avoid the sensation that his head was full of mud. Screech probably had a concussion to go with those raccoon eyes, but he only felt the headache.

He was distracted by the various physical symptoms that ailed him, so he didn't notice the oncoming stranger until she was right in front of him. At first Screech just, kind of, stopped. Unlike his older brother, Screech didn't see any connection between this girl and anyone in his immediate family - but he had never met Fox before. Rather, he saw this ragged and leggy individual as an impediment to his progress; what was she doing here? What did she want?

Heh, he greeted cooly, but the sound of his voice came out more like a breathy honk than a proper word - sounding entirely too nasal to be normal. Frustrated by the sound of his own voice, he tried again: What'a you loogin' at?

the cool response the individual uttered was almost a rebuke to the red wolf; confused by his indifference (and also vexed by the cloud of disorientation storming around him) indra took a tentative step backwards. it was not often she was met with anything but general ambivalence and his reaction to her appearance seemed almost like he was rejecting her presence.

she could not help but let her eyes stray to his nose again, and this time she noticed faint puffiness that hung like dark smog under his gaze. she did not connect he might be hurt, only that he had been -- yet no maternal urge threatened to overtake her.

"you?" she answered plainly enough, never having had the penchant for coyness. "what's wrong?" she wanted to say 'what's wrong with you?' but stopped short lest she find out just how exactly he acquired the marks that blighted his countenance.

The real question was, what wasn't wrong. Since finding Cassiopeia in the forest things had been taking a downward turn; he felt like he'd fallen down a rabbit hole and everything was spiraling out of his control. Had she cursed him? Had she been there to meet him just to spread some kind of evil? He hadn't considered it until now, but Screech refused to entertain the thought for long.

Someone was dead. He hadn't been the reason for that, but who cared if he went down for it? Maybe he was destined for darkness - it seemed quite happy to be his bedfellow these days. The boy glowered at the stranger as if all of his thoughts were facts that the universe should have imparted to her - but no, she was innocent. He had no fight with her.

Lassee, uh, broge my nonse, ummose scared a guy t'dealth, uhh, as he recounted the past day and a half of weirdness which had transpired around him, he looked off in to the distance and ticked off each bit as if he were recounting a shopping list. Oh, 'und kelled a person. Hmm, he took a breath through his mouth and swallowed, then stood there watching her, wondering how she'd react. Likely with horror, because he was horrible.

as the male spoke indra took brief stock of him, of their surroundings - his tone was thick and congested, likely a direct result of the swollen noz he sported. indra's ears were cupped forward in concentration, yet even trying as hard as she did, it was difficult to make out what he was saying.

she spent a few seconds after he finished deciphering his words, digesting them - when she fully pieced apart what "kelled" was her eyes became flinty and she shifted her gaze to him in suspicion. "k..killed someone?" she repeated, her tone significantly less friendly than it was before -- as if she were reiterating some great offense.. in a way, it was a great offense -- just not to her.

Well, she didn't run or scream at him, so that was... Something.

Theds what I said. But why wasn't she running? Why was she still here? He could tell by the tone in her voice and the look on her face that something had registered, but... Why was she still here? He took a bold step towards her as if to test her limits, and leveled a glare in her direction; he prepared to say something dastardly or vile, something only a villain would say, but then... He got too distracted by the fact she hadn't run for the hills, and out popped: Hrrn't you scaredh?

the auburn wolf remained suspicious -- killing was not something that came easily to her, and she was mistrustful of any wolf that openly admitted to killing "someone". nevermind the irony of the situation, which was that wolves killed routinely and fastiduously for food - somehow, to indra, a wolf's life was taboo but a hare... a hare was somehow more amenable.

she couldn't swallow the reason why it was that way, but it was for her -- any further divination on her twisted logic was interrupted by the male's bold step towards her. instantly her hair flew on end and she found her feet, trouncing backwards in a sideways leap not unlike a startled cat's. "hey!" she hissed, her gaze cold and firm: "don't get any closer." stupid indra - she hadn't been around enough boys to know "don't" meant "do", all the same she trusted her words would carry implicit command (they didn't).

was she scared? she knew it. "a little." she had no problem admitting it, despite present company. "why did you do it?" she asked accusingly, getting ready to run.

That was what he expected! She tried to back away from him and he felt that same thrill from before - the feeling he'd gotten when he'd followed the older wolf and left him cowering beside a tree. It made him feel a little sick all over again, but Screech tried to dwell on the positive: she was afraid. Rightly so.

Her response threw him for a loop though; he side-stepped as if to regain his balance, and stopped looming close. Why? That was a question he hadn't anticipated. But at the same time, what else could she possibly have asked him? He opened his mouth to answer but didn't know what to say, so after a few seconds of his best fish imitation, he just shut his mouth again and shrugged, looking morosely down at his feet.

Well shit.

she stared at him expectantly, hackles still lifted and gaze still icy. he seemed to flounder, as if somehow rendered speechless by her seemingly harmless question. as he looked to the ground in what indra interpreted as guilt she felt a lull of confusion descend her. was he a killer, or wasn't he?

"well?" she pressed hottly, her two ears pulled back in annoyance her question had been left unanswered. "if you did it, you had to have had a reason." she continued, as if every action ever dictated proper reason for doing it. indra obviously hadn't lived long enough to know that, but her voice was imbued with a self-assured conviction that was hard to argue against.

He had never been all that bright and really, Screech had to try pretty hard to think on his feet. She harassed him for an answer and all he could do was think, what would Blackfeather do? And his gut reaction was to say, I don' needda reason! You thingkh a keller neehs a reason? His voice got louder and more shrill despite the nasal quality to it, taking on a slightly panicked tone. She was probably able to see through his deception quite easily at this point but Screech didn't think, he merely reacted. It was the same as when that pale girl had collapsed before him - he merely reacted and ran - and now, realizing he wasn't some badass villain, a killer, or anything to be frightened of, everything seemed to sink in.

That girl was dead. He wasn't the reason, but she was still dead and someone was going to blame him and, knowing his luck, he was going to die too! Screech's breathing picked up in tempo at that point; he felt his heart pounding in his ears and a sense of claustrophobia surround him on all sides, despite being out in the open. He shook his head and stumbled backwards, then sank to his rear as he tripped on himself. I didn't -- I didn't -- it just happened, he wasn't making sense but like, when did he ever.

Ever since her battle against the cold, the girl had felt sluggish, tired. The events of that day were confusing and dim, but she understood that things had changed; here was the opportunity to begin anew. Still, she had spent much of her fresh-ish start sleeping, slowly gaining strength and eventually feeling motivated enough to find Screech. She hobbled; the cold had burned her rear limbs, up to her hacks, where she hadn't cleared the snow and the ice. 

She heard him, first, she shrillness of his voice slightly alarming but most definitely recognizable. She came across the pair as the boy tumbled backwards, gaze travelling to the other girl as her tail curled up and her ears pressed forward in dominance, pelt prickling but unsure of what to do. Very obviously she was interrupting something, but just how her interruption would be taken by both parties was to be seen.

indra had expected an answer - she had not expected the silvered male to crumble like deadwood. her own ears pulled back once more in revolt as he unexpectedly stumbled as if struck across the face. a small part of her wanted to be concerned and it showed in the complex crease of her forehead, yet at the same time, he was a killer. did killers deserve empathy?

plot twist: he had done nothing. that did little to clear the air, and now indra was even more perplexed than before. just as she was about to grill him further another wolf appeared, dark sooty black and unbidden. indra would have hailed the wolf friendily enough if it werent for the assertive posture the female immediately adopted: off put by this display, indra kept her ground and her tail rallied behind her.

she looked to screech for an answer, half expecting him to give him one despite the very confusing amount information he had already proferred.

He was gasping for air and everything was still sort of spinning, and each gasp hurt his face, and sometimes he'd sniffle as if his nose wasn't broken and it would hurt - so he squeezed his eyes shut, planted his feet, and waited for everything to calm down. Taking deep breaths was obviously not a good plan but that's what Raven had told him to do when he'd freak out about his leg. He lifted his head up and glanced at the girl, then above her head, and stared up at the sky trying to gulp down air - and his heart did slow for a minute, although he felt a dizzying sense of disorientation regardless.

Screech's heart still pounded but as long as he fought against thoughts of that girl, and everything that was bound to happen because of his involvement, he could slowly get control again. But he caught a glimpse of the girl again and she was frowning, her body rigid and tail raised as if in surprise, and it made him follow her gaze to the dark blotch that had joined them.

Casheepeea, he slurred and sighed. She seemed expectant as well as concerned, and that sobered him up the rest of the way. Its -- its okay, I wash... There's a lot to tell you, but he didn't dare talk about it all here, not considering how close he was to the caldera and how absolutely fucked up everything had become. Not to mention his unwilling audience of one that had likely become alienated in the process.

He slogged to his feet then, passing a sorry look to Indra as he sagged towards Cassiopeia; he paused long enough to address the tawny girl with something more tangible, but it felt fake all the same: S-sorry, you.. You caw't me onna bad day.