Heron Lake Plateau Glam, glitz, guts and gore.

She had sent Tegan away, despite her own words to Raven just weeks prior, suggesting all Redhawks remain close to home. But, a little voice in Towhee's head signed, it wasn't like you sent them out for nothing. Ceara was missing, is still missing... Nonetheless, her teeth ground together as she plodded around the borders, ignoring the cold rain and the biting wind as winter started to cut its teeth against the plateau. Rory came back. Tegan and Ceara will turn up too, she thought to herself, a miserable frown smearing across her swarthy face.

It was cold, and it had only been getting colder. He was thin, his coat was scraggly, and he looked unwell. He felt unwell. Phox was a mere husk of the bright young boy he had once been. He had only been in the area a day or two, but he had picked up their scent easily. It was all the same wolves. Elwood, Finley, Raven, Towhee, Eljay. They were all here.

The estranged Redhawk still felt wretched for leaving them, but he couldn't bring himself to stay away any longer. They could rip him to shreds if they wished, but he wasn't going to survive on his own out there any longer.

He collapsed in a heap just outside the invisible wall, struggling to breathe, but happy to be home.

The frown turned into a downright scowl when Towhee noticed a skinny black figure making its way toward the plateau's foot. With a growl rumbling deep in her throat, the she-wolf hastened to intercept the interloper. The rolling noise cut off sharply when he collapsed well before she could reach him.

She slowed as she approached, sniffing the wet air for any sign of illness. When his soaking wet scent filled her nose, she didn't detect any malaise, though the familiarity of it made Towhee freeze suddenly. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, in the space of a second.

I should put you out of your misery, was the first bitter thought that crossed her mind. Yet as she stood there, looking down at his emaciated frame and observing his struggle, her orange eyes trailed to the white tip of his tail. And just like that, a sense of pity pierced through her, followed by a strong wave of nostalgia and a touch of grief as she couldn't help but think of their shared childhood, of tiny Orca and Titmouse too.

"Stay here, you piece of shit coward," Towhee said lowly, turning away and quickly fetching a piece of cold meat from a nearby cache. By the time she returned to stand over the decrepit Phox—her last surviving litter mate—her feelings were mixing enough to prompt Towhee to drop the carcass unceremoniously on his head.

He was barely conscious when she came to him, and he slipped back into the darkness just after she finished speaking. He was running a fever, no doubt about that, but a dry and warm place would heal him with time. In the short amount of time it took her to retrieve the carcass, he relived the moment when he left over and over again, her words on repeat echoing through his head. It gave him a headache.

The "thonk" of something hitting his head was enough to rustle him awake, and he blinked wearily at the food. He gave her a guilty look, pausing to make sure she actually wanted him to eat it. And while he couldn't say for certain that she really wanted him to eat it, his stomach rumbled and instinct took over. He scarfed down the meat so fast, it upset his stomach, and he hurled it right back up.

Piece of shit coward can't even eat right.

Phox tried again, slower this time, swallowing with purpose and intention rather than with the ferocious speed that he had before. He did not know if redemption was in his future, and he wasn't sure he deserved it anyway.

As she stood there, observing him scarf down the meat, vomit, then try again, Towhee's feelings continued to tilt wildly. She wanted to take pleasure in his struggle, yet it was only painful to watch. In fact, she turned away from the pathetic sight... only to turn back to continue staring at him. She kept her expression impassive, though the stricken glow in her fiery eyes might have given her away.

He hadn't said a word—he was probably too weak—and suddenly it occurred to her that he might be disoriented. "Do you know where you are?" she snapped, feeling the whip of her tongue even if she couldn't hear the tone. Speaking more slowly, she added, "Do you know who I am?" There was a pause, the rain splattering her face but prompting no reaction, before she finally made a sign she hadn't in ages. -Phox...?-

He felt the food threaten to come up again, but Phox took a deep breath and managed to keep it down this time. He still felt queasy, but not quite as weak. She asked him a series of questions, and it took him some time to process everything. -Towhee,- he replied, drudging the movements up from his memory. He wanted to rush forward, to embrace her, to tell her how much he missed everybody, especially her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Something held him back. Something kept his feet cemented to the ground.

The yearling knew the second he said anything other than her name, he wouldn't be able to stop. He would apologize and apologize and repent and repent. But none of it would matter. They would never forgive him. Why would they? How could they?

Piece of shit coward doesn't deserve it.

Seeing Phox sign her name struck a chord deep within Towhee; it thrummed to the point of aching. Yet she resisted the impulse to move closer to embrace her sibling or offer him warmth. He might look pitiful, yet she wouldn't simply forget that he'd abandoned them—left her—all that time ago. She wasn't as hardheaded about these matters these days, but nor was she easygoing about those she considered deserters.

"Where have you been?" she demanded woodenly. "Why are you here now?" She remembered how he'd left while the Redhawks were on the cusp of war with the Blackfeathers. Towhee's eyes flashed. Joke's on you, you piece of shit, she thought, remembering Tegan and Ceara.

He could tell. He could sense she was angry, hurt, and confused. They had spent nearly every waking moment together from their birth to the day he defected, and she was still much the same. He, however, was not. That (almost) year alone had broken him... possibly beyond repair. She asked him questions, and he struggled to find the answers. "Away" probably wasn't going to cut it. "Because I'm a piece of shit coward" was unlikely to answer the other question.

Phox did not know how verbose she would tolerate him being, and he knew lip reading was more difficult than signing for her. At least that was how he recalled things. Ptero was still like a first language to him, although he would most certainly stall for certain words and phrases as he "spoke."

-I couldn't stand the thought of losing you, of losing any of you to that other pack. I was a dumb kid. I'm still a dumb kid. I thought, somehow, that leaving would prevent the heartache of watching anybody get hurt, so I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. I joined a pack, and they were okay, but I never felt at home there, so I joined another. And another, and another. Never for more than a dozen days or so. I was so restless and useless. I deserted them, too.

-I even came back to the caldera once, but nobody was there, and I thought the worst had happened. I thought you were all dead. I visited Peregrine and Fox's graves looking for guidance or something, but I didn't find anything at all.

-I'm here now because I don't think I belong anywhere. I'd rather die than keep living without you.-

Her thoughts strayed to her two wayward pack mates for a beat, though as Phox commenced signing, her attention sharpened to a laser focus. Towhee "listened" without interruption, though she squinted several times during his story. Despite herself, she couldn't help but note that he still signed fluently, which put a pang in her heart.

There was part of Towhee that immediately wanted to tell him about their litter's fate. But she pressed her lips together and resisted the telling quiver in her limbs as they itched to make the signs. She was angry but she wasn't cruel. And though Phox's closing statement didn't really move her, she wasn't made of stone either.

She let out a long-suffering sigh and noticed the vapor of her breath mingling with the light rain; the temperature was dropping. -Very profound,- Towhee finally remarked. -Once, I would've said you belonged here with us, with me, without a shadow of a doubt.- Her face contorted into a grimace. -But I don't know anymore, Phox. In any case, it's not my call. You missed my rise and fall as a leader—among other things—so that decision rests with Raven.-

Towhee made a gesture that indicated he should call their older sister himself, then fell silent. "Among other things" was probably the understatement of the year. She tried to think back on all that had happened since Phox had suddenly disappeared from her life. It sent a sickening wave of anger and sadness though her. She shook her head and let out another drawn-out sigh.

Her two-word reply hurt. But he knew that, as a piece of shit coward, he deserved all the hurt he could get. He wondered when she had stopped thinking he belonged here, but he knew the real answer: as soon as his belly turned bright yellow and he ran off with his tail between his legs like the piece of shit coward he was. Redemption in this life was not an option, but perhaps he could pay penance and hope for something less severe than this in whatever lay after death. Just maybe Towhee would not hate him by the time she died, although he did not expect forgiveness.

She motioned for him to call for @Raven, and he did so, hoping his voice—as weak as it was—would carry far enough for her to hear. She was like a mother to him in more ways than one, but he did not expect a warm welcome from her, either. From anybody, really. But what of Elwood and Finley? And Towhee's rise and fall from leadership? Why weren't Orca and Titmouse here? There were a million and one questions he had, and he wanted so badly to ask them, but he didn't feel right asking now. He didn't even know if he would be allowed to stay.

The rain continued to drizzle down, and he blinked away the water that collected on his eyelashes. He didn't speak, nor did he sign. He waited patiently, shivering in the cold rain.

She saw him howl and couldn't help but wonder what Raven would think when she heard his voice. Would she recognize it right away? Towhee thought she would. But what would the Alpha female think? And feel? Once upon a time, Raven's acceptance of Phox would've been a foregone conclusion. But the deaf yearling knew her sibling's patience and trust had been tested a lot since her rise to leadership, especially by Screech. Towhee could picture a snarling Raven chasing Phox out of here just as easily as she could see the medic taking pity on him.

Still, it was probably better that his fate rested in Raven's hands, rather than Towhee's. As she stood there in stony silence, looking at him, she wondered, Could I really turn Phox away? Phox, of all people? She felt mixed up enough that it was entirely possible. But he was in such bad shape, he'd surely die if they didn't take him in today. Would Towhee (and Raven) feel horrible later, if they chose to tell Phox to get lost now?

Rather abruptly, Towhee broke the silence she couldn't hear but could certainly feel. "It goes without saying," she began, "that you missed a lot. It may take Rave a bit to get here, so this is your chance to ask me questions." There was no guarantee after that. Even if he was accepted, Towhee couldn't fathom what sort of relationship they might forge. The last time she'd tried to forgive a wayward litter mate, it had been among the worst mistakes of her life. She didn't want to make it again, nor be forced to execute another brother.

He thought that she might make him sit in silence for the entire time it took for Raven to appear, but instead, she offered him the chance to ask questions. It was likely a small gesture in her eyes, but to him, it meant something. It meant she hadn't completely written him off. It meant there was a chance they might have some form of a relationship. If she'd hated him with every ounce of her being, she would have withheld all the happenings that had gone on since he had left the Redhawk clan. And there was that—did he even deserve that name anymore? Surely they wouldn't want a piece of shit coward muddying the name.

There were pressing questions, and ones he couldn't hold back any longer. He reverted to speaking, if only because Towhee was doing the same. Orca and Titmouse? Where are they? They weren't here. He gulped at whatever came next, if only because he assumed the worst. The Blackfeather wolves had taken them. Maybe, just maybe they had happier reasons for not being here.

She hadn't expected him to ask about their brother and sister so directly. It almost made her flinch. There was still part of Towhee that relished in breaking the bad news, though mostly she just felt bitter grief as she relayed, "Orca died over the summer; she fell. X witnessed it, otherwise we might never have found her." She cocked her head, wondering if he remembered the hawk. She didn't mention that she'd personally brought their sister's remains back here to be buried on The Roost, as it didn't seem pertinent. Maybe if he did rejoin, she would show him the grave. Maybe.

"As for Titmouse... I chased him down, tore out his throat and threw him into the sea after he attacked multiple wolves." Towhee paused, mouth feeling dry and tongue brittle as she added, "Including raping a pregnant Raven." She knew she didn't need to justify her actions, least of all to Phox, but she let the tendrils of vindication flow through her a moment as she stopped there, allowing him a chance to process. She'd answered his questions. Towhee wondered if there would be more or if curiosity had killed the cat.

Even though he had expected the worst, nothing could brace him for the news. Orca and Titmouse were dead. Gone. Not only that, but Titmouse had done unspeakable things. Phox sat there, stunned. He had expected that they had died at the hands of the Blackfeather wolves. It was here—right now—that he learned his own disappearance had not kept them from dying (something a piece of shit coward might assume). In fact, it seemed to have made it worse. Instead of processing one death, then another, he had to ingest two at the same time. It was hard to breathe, and not just because of the cold and fever.

He was speechless, and he wondered if that was what Towhee had wanted. Maybe she wanted him to stop asking questions. Now he felt as though she had offered that up as punishment, as torture for his betrayal to her, to the Redhawks, to the pack. With Orca and Titmouse dead and gone, that left Towhee as his only remaining littermate. He knew it technically went both ways, but somehow he was not sure if he would qualify as a sibling at this point. If he was one, he was a piss poor one.

Elwood and Finley? he asked. They were the leaders when he had left, and now Raven had taken the reigns. At some point in the interim, Towhee had, too. He waited to ask that question, ragged breath filling the silence (at least for him) as he awaited her answer.

If she'd thought she'd get some satisfaction from seeing Phox's reaction, Towhee was mistaken. Her own emotions were so conflicted that she had to look away. When she glanced back, he'd evidently decided to pursue her offer of answering questions. She'd wondered if he'd ask about Raven's family, yet he seemed determined to check off a list of familiar names.

"They're still around," she answered when he queried after their godparents. What would they think of his prodigal return? "They retired from leadership." So had Towhee—and there was such a story to tell there—but she didn't volunteer any information. She was going to answer Phox's questions directly and that was it.

Or so she thought, until Towhee abruptly remembered something. "Rave might not even be in the territory." She licked her lips, glancing off into the distance for a moment as she deliberated, before deciding to explain somewhat: "She's been out searching a lot. We came all the way here to avoid the Blackfeathers, yet they've evidently found us anyway. Some of our pack mates are missing and they're probably behind it. You have some ironic timing." This time, she didn't say it, though she mentally pinned on: You piece of shit coward.

She didn't elaborate on Elwood and Finely, and Phox hoped that was a good thing. It meant (in his head, anyway) that their hardships had been few and far between. If anything good had happened, he doubted Towhee would have told him. She seemed only to have bad news to share, and she went on to explain that the Blackfeather wolves were at it again. This time, it sounded as if they had infiltrated the Redhawks from the inside. Phox swallowed, pushing down his cowardice as far as he could and attempting to remain strong. Towhee had always been the strong fierce one. That had never been more evident than now.

Raven is okay? he asked, again assuming the worst. If she was at the helm, that must have meant that she was somewhat okay. There were other strong scents on the border that he didn't recognize, but he had expected that. Wolves to fill the void he had left behind. He wondered if anybody aside from Towhee and Raven would remember him.

Can I do anything? he asked, immediately realizing a) he was in no shape to do anything and b) that was a dumb and vague question. To help, I mean.

"Rave is fine," Towhee answered a little brusquely. She really didn't want to dwell on those particular pieces of the past. Anyway, her hackles prickled slightly at his next words. She knew he meant well but the emotional duress of this encounter showed when she answered, "We don't need you. And you're in horrible shape. How do you figure you can help?"

Towhee felt a jab of guilt right after the words sprang from her tongue. She drew in a deep breath and said, "What you can do is stay out of the way." She may or may not have paused just to let Phox think, at least for a split second, that Towhee was rejecting his bid to rejoin the Redhawks. She then continued, "Go wait behind Tegan's Tears—the waterfall at the plateau's southern face—until Rave and Quixote have time to evaluate your ass." Was that a tiny smirk?

"I'm gonna go see if I can hunt down Qui," she announced in the next moment. It seemed the Q&A was over. "I'll inform them of the situation and then send X with word." Towhee lingered for a moment, orange eyes boring into Phox, before she quickly swept away.

Fine, but no elaboration. She was essentially their mother, and yet Towhee withheld so much more. He deserved it, though. Phox knew that much. He would not get a clean slate here. Every time he had attempted a clean slate, he'd been thrown off of it, spat back into the wild a little more chewed up each time. And here was Towhee doing it again, as she had every right to do so.

There was no timeframe given with her order to wait by the waterfall, named after a wolf Phox barely remembered. But if X did not come for him, then the vultures would. He had meant what he had said, even if Towhee seemed not to believe him: he would rather die than live without her.

He painstakingly got to his feet and began to make the trek south. A piece of him wished she would give him something—anything—resembling warmth, but he knew not to expect it.

Piece of shit coward doesn't deserve it.

He did not know who Quixote was, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that meant they didn't know each other at all. Maybe Phox had a chance here after all. Or maybe not.

Piece of shit cowards don't deserve any more chances.