Heron Lake Plateau i.x : who was only a stranger at home

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As soon as Niamh saw Quixote, she sat up, careful not to jostle Towhee, her features forlorn and apologetic, but not without the stark look of someone in shock. Why was it that she always seemed to get caught in something like this, having to explain a strange situation to Quixote? Maybe if he actually moved faster, he'd be the one in this situation, Said a voice ruefully, which surprised her. Since when had she ever thought such a thing about Quixote? Since now, apparently; now that she had to explain herself yet again, in a situation where she looked like an idiot and no one else was coherent enough to explain. But she didn't want to explain- she wanted to go after Colt .

"There was a Blackfeather wolf here; one of the ones that kidnapped Ceara." She said. With all the loose details now being smashed together, the truth and her hastily formulated fabrication jammed together. "She said Screech was dead...But she was lying. I think...I couldn't figure out what she wanted- whether she was a spy, or looking for another hostage since Ceara got free or what...So I called for Towhee." She said, glancing down at her prone friend. She hadn't called for Quixote- so she expected to be questioned about that judgement call...But she wasn't sure she could put up with that. Slowly, she stood up, pulling herself away from Towhee. "Colt came too...Towhee attacked the stranger as soon as I told her she was from Blackfeather, but Colt tried to stop her and she got knocked out." She said. She stepped away from Towhee's side...She would be safe with Quixote, now. She shook her head, looking off where Colt and Maegi had disappeared. Her throat tightened. "I thought...He was choosing...He was defending her, so I-" She said, and shook her head again. "I have to go find him. I have to-"

And she recalled the words he'd spoken to her before, stopping her from running off to find Bruges. Putting in action a plan that forbade anyone from running off if an emergemcy happened. Keeping them cooped up on the plateau where they, as a mass, would be safe. She'd let that happen once before and would never know the outcome, whether Bruges had survived or not. And it was likely that reason that Niamh had snapped. The dog had been tied to the chain for too long; and now, when the hand came to fasten the chain to its collar again, it had had enough.

Niamh bolted. 

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As soon as she started talking, he could tell this thing was gonna be way more of a disaster than anything he'd be able to peel out of her in the next hour or two.  None of it made sense to a wolf with any sort of tactical head -- a kidnapper wouldn't come here and announce themselves like that wolf had, why would they tell the pack that Screech was dead when they were so far away they probably couldn't do much, why would they bother? 

Calm down, he said when he could finally get a word in as the wheels were turning Niamh's head, I need you to--- hey, wait! Where the hell--!!  Though at first he'd yelled after her, once it was clear she was picking up speed he just kind of gawked slack-jawed for a moment.  Okay, so she's basically useless in a crisis, good to know.  His second guesses at her actions had only been mild. The odd, 'Uh, why would you do that,' kind of thought that probably would have been solved by her growing up a bit more, which should theoretically happen.  But this?  This was a whole other level.  This was an, 'I chose wrongly and this will have to be rectified,' kind of scenario.  He had even more questions, but the only one that was certain was that Niamh was eager to force his hand.

Either way, it was only a few seconds before he turned back to Towhee, nudging her slightly, I'd ask if you were in there, but you can't hear me anyway.  And telling you not to get up probably isn't gonna work to well either, so... This is gonna be great, I'm sure.  The blood wasn't hers, looked like -- everything else was -- so hopefully it wouldn't be too bad.  Raven should be here pretty soon too to confirm anyway.   Quixote's current only plan was to squash her back down if she woke up and tried to get up before Raven had a chance to give her an once-over.  It wasn't like he'd really gotten much of a story from Niamh about what actually freaking happened...

Consciousness returned gradually over the course of several minutes. The first sense to return was touch. Her head ached something awful and she was wet and cold. She began to shudder, then groan as she woke more and more. Her eyes began to flutter, then peeled open slowly. That was when the smells hit her: blood, piss and shit. She moaned again, trying to roll over from her side to her belly. It made her head throb even as she became aware of the bodily fluids slathered into her fur.

"Wh'th'fuck..." the mercenary slurred, her usual garble even more difficult to decipher as she ascertained the situation. Her orange gaze panned over her body before finally lifting somewhat, spotting Quixote's legs and traveling slowly up to his face. "The fuck—" she mumbled a little more clearly, feeling more awake with every passing second.

Even as she pushed upright with a groan—this headache was killer, her shoulder was sore too and not to mention how gross she felt covered in what appeared to be excrement—Towhee's slightly scrambled brains tried to piece together what was going on here. The last thing she remembered was... concentrating made her vision blur for a second but then she caught a few snatches. X was leading her to the borders. Niamh was motioning her closer. There was the Swamp Thing...

It clicked into place suddenly and Towhee gave Quixote a rather absurd look before looking around, which was a mistake; it made her head pound. "Where'd she go—where'd they go? I was—" She was going for the throat. "I was trying to kill her but then—" But then... what? She narrowed her eyes to slits, staring studiously into space. But there was nothing there after the lunge for Swamp Thing's jugular.

She must have hit her head somehow, though Towhee couldn't think how that could've happened. "Why am I covered...? Fuck me," the Beta muttered, looking down at herself. Now she was Swamp Thing.

Down, DOWN! and though he was saying so loudly, that obviously didn't matter.  Aw hell, as long as she didn't try wandering away.  He tried to be more clear about his words than usual, partially because he was pretty sure if he tried to do ptero he'd just talk about winged monkeys or it would take about ten years for him to get a point across, Raven's coming. Stay put.  At least she didn't get totally zombified like Screech -- oh that's where he'd seen this before.  Huh.  Someone should assign them helmets.

He let her get her bearings and attempted to judge when she was coherent enough to actually understand him, And I don't know.  Niamh gave me a partial explanation that didn't make sense, then bailed to chase Colt?  Somehow he was involved?  I don't know.  There's a lot I don't know.  Why she didn't call for me in the first place, why she has to chase Colt, why she didn't call for Raven...  Okay, by that part he was talking more for his own sour to-do list more than anything, and even started to look away towards where Raven would be coming from.

He was immensely tired of wolves that should be his underlings completely dissing him.  Quixote wasn't asking for much.  He lead casually, but apparently this was where being casual lead them -- first his mate challenged by some woman who didn't have a chance in hell of having the respect of the pack, and now one beta gone rogue who didn't call for him in times of crisis.  What was even going on?  Did he really have to be more of a demanding jerk to get these wolves to act like reasonable people?

Whatever, there was his mate, a familiar black dot that was rapidly approaching.  Raven would have enough to deal with (again) without him unloading his issues on her, so he'd keep that set of thoughts to himself for the near future.

She needed a bath, pronto. But Quixote insisted she stay put, told her that Raven was on her way. She nodded stiffly, trying not to move her head overly much. Towhee stilled as Quixote began to relay what he knew about the situation. Maybe the impact with Swamp Thing had somehow knocked her upside the head? She didn't see how, though stranger things had happened. She was willing to bet that Swamp Thing had made an escape, with Colt and Niamh hot on her tail now.

"She was a Blackfeather wolf," the mercenary mumbled, reaching up a paw to rub at her temple because it was that bad. With that said, "I don't think I have a concussion or anything, although I'm no expert. I'll let Rave take point on a formal diagnosis. I feel okay, aside from the splitting headache, goddamn..." Her voice trailed off into incoherent muttering.

When Raven arrived, Towhee's nose wrinkled. "Sorry, I apparently fucking shat myself," she moaned to her sister, who hushed her and began checking her over. Towhee sat as still as she could while the caregiver assessed. "I don't feel dizzy or fuzzy or anything," she offered. "Although there's kind of some blank spots. Is that bad?" she quipped very, very wryly.

Totally unconcerned for their comrades in pursuit of the enemy—confident, even, that they'd chase her down and dispatch her as Towhee had intended to do herself—she shot a glance at Quixote as Raven motioned for her to stand. She almost missed it as the medic said, "I'll walk you to the lake, help you wash up. We can stop for some painkillers on the way." But sensing her sister's speech somehow, Towhee faced her again, nodding her assent.

"Let's get this shit show on the road," she joked—again, voice dryer than ever—and began to shuffle along beside her sister, insisting on about a foot of space despite the medic's proffered support. One of them covered in feces was already one too many.

Fade here and/or ship to the archives? Brill thread, people! :D