Heron Lake Plateau I spat on you when you called me a dog

Maybe @Sorina but its open! Set the 15th.

It wasn't like they spent all their time pissing on everything (in fact for the first little while Screech was too dehydrated) but in the few days since arriving they had done their best to make their claim known on a chemical level. Now he was wandering, exploring, having split from Redshank just to cover more ground and see if this place was actually a sustainable choice.

Within hours of delving through the reedy grassland he found something - many something's actually - but with no clue how to proceed. He had found a nest. The eggs were pretty big and he couldn't ignore the appeal of them - but as soon as he got close there came a hissing, then flapping, and so many deep honks he thought he would have a heart attack.

As the boy backpedaled (read: ran for his life) from the sleepy pair of parental geese, he suddenly wished he had some backup.

For several weeks, the yearling had travelled alone. She’d ventured from one territory to the next, avoiding contact with others when she was able to do so. At one point, she’d found herself back at the coast, where she wandered until a river interrupted her path and sent her following along its bank, instead; she could have crossed it with ease, had she the desire to do so, but there was no point in drenching herself when there was another way. Yet, she could avoid unsavoury situations only for so long, as she was soon trekking through wetlands. Each time she went to move forward she lifted her limbs up high, almost as if she believed that would somehow keep them from getting too damp.

It didn’t work, of course—and nothing would have worked to keep her dry in the moments that followed.

It was all a blur. One moment she was up and moving, the next it felt as if a rock had hit her, and she was suddenly sprawled out on the ground, reeds flattened by the weight of her body. She blinked several times, stunned beyond belief. The sound of honking didn’t even register as her gaze fell on the mass that’d hit her, the form easily recognisable and drawing from her a growl, which ended in a haughty huff. “What the hell are you doing?!” she spat, just as lovely as ever. “You didn’t lose both eyes, you should be able to see where you’re going!” Wow, had she missed yelling at him.

The birds weren't that big compared to a wolf, but when he wasn't expecting them to come out of the gras and start screaming at him with their stupid honking voices, everything kind of went topsy-turvy. The female was puffed and defensive with her wings out, but the male chased after him with its long neck undulating; the calls it made followed him as Screech stumbled over his own feet. Just as he managed to turn around and take off at a sprint, he was suddenly colliding with a familiar body and hitting the dirt.

If this were a cartoon, tiny animated goslings would be spinning circles around his head; he came back to reality upon recognizing this new target who squalled and squawked at him — Sorina. Ugh.

I -- what are you -- fuckin' -- He was puffing up now, propping himself up and staring at her, no, glaring at her, and getting to his feet with a grimace on his face. I was hunting, you stupid bitch. Why are you here? Oh, wait, don't tell me - I don't actually care. Leave. To make his point, he came at her with a snap and a hard-edged shoulder check, not willing to give her time to spout nonsense or fight him on this. These were going to be his lands and she wasn't fuckin' welcome.

As he got up, she scrambled up to her feet, grimacing as a pain ripped up through her shoulder; she’d have a bruise there, no doubt. She matched his glare with one of her own, tail already lashing behind her like a seriously peeved feline. “Looked like you were running, not hunting,” she stated, lips twitching with the threat of a snarl—how dare he treat her so rudely! He continued to speak and she tried to interject, but soon found herself jerking her head back to avoid the snap of his jaws, and then yelping as his shoulder made contact with her own. “You—you fucking—” she couldn’t get out a full sentence, retreating several steps to inspect herself; there were no visible wounds, the issue apparently an internal one.

He crashed into her, he hurt her—and he had the audacity to then try and command her?!

No.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she stated, just as stubborn as usual. “You will not”—she took a step towards him, hiding the temporary limp in her gait the best that she could—“tell me what to do.” Had they not gone over this before? Why couldn’t he get this through his head? “You listen to me—you’re supposed to listen to me.” Why couldn’t he be like the pale boy from the shore? “Why—” she tried to advance towards him, only to slow to a stop and just stand there, defeated and physically hurt, among other things. “Why won’t you listen? You’re—you’re a boy, you’re supposed to listen! Why won’t you? Aren’t I—” good enough? she wanted to finish with, but couldn’t find it within herself to do so. She’d always heard tales of how charming the Gorgon women before her were, of how they could bend any male’s will—so why couldn’t she? What was wrong with her, what had happened, that she couldn’t even get a partially blind coward to obey her?

Perhaps she wasn’t meant to carry her family’s name.

The more she bludgeoned him with her words, the less patience he had - and Screech had never been a patient person to begin with. But her question (which seemed hostile by default but also, incredibly, sincere,) made him gawk at her a second. The proverbial cat released his tongue in the next instant. She wanted to know why? She'd get that answer.

Why the fuck should I listen to you? Honestly? All you do is shout and scream at me and get all hurt when I haven't done a thing to you. You have done nothing to earn my respect, and I am not about to obey some random chick I know nothing about who just shrieks at me all the time. There, now you know. Who the fuck are you, that you think you're so high and mighty that people should curb to your every harpy scream? That wasn't a real question but he was on a roll, and wasn't about to take her shit here on his turf (even if it wouldn't remain his turf for long).

Like I said before — Leave. You aren't welcome here if you pull this shit again, your crazy bitch. He bumped her with his shoulder then, bared his teeth in a lame display purely for dominance sake, and readied himself for her inevitable hysteria. That's what he should call her - Hysteria. It was the perfect fit.

Sorina pushed and pushed and pushed—until, finally, there was no longer any weight behind her words. Her shouts delivered not a single blow, her presence not the least bit threatening—she was just some random girl shouting at a boy she barely knew, demanding obedience. But his words did not shut her down, not entirely. In all actuality, it was perhaps the fact that he responded at all that made her patience snap, fury igniting and tongue ready to cut him down.

“You haven’t done anything?!” she mocked, disbelief evident in her tone. “You—you did something! You did something and then you just left, like it was nothing!” Yeah, she was still hung up on that. “You have to listen to me after that—you owe me at least that, for what you did.” And didn’t do, really. That he had no respect for her, however, struck her harshly and made her fall silent, if only for a moment. “You have to respect me,” she decided. “After what—after what you did, you have to! That’s how it works, that’s… that’s how things are supposed to be.” It made sense to her, at least. “So just—just listen to me! For once—just once—just listen to me…” Alright, Sorina, pleading is pretty pathetic. She did nothing to hide her emotions from either her voice or expression, letting it all linger out in the open, a book so easily read.

Again, he tried to order her around and threaten her, but she didn’t give in. “I’m not leaving,” she stated, bracing herself for his next hit, should it happen again. Her ears flicked back, briefly, when he bared his teeth, but were quick to pop right back up just a second later; she wasn’t going to let him push her around or tell her what to do, she couldn’t.