Grouse Thicket started from the bottom

It took a few days of mindless travel for Screech to get from the muddy slough to the swamp, but when he noticed the ground becoming more water than mud, he knew he'd reached his limit. So instead of continuing southward, he headed west — and that was how, many messy detours later, he wound up in the thicket. It was incredibly quiet among the trees. If there were birds here, he likely was walking right by them and the underbrush was keeping them hidden. Then again, he didn't know what this place was called let alone what prey frequented the area — so he moseyed his way through, his pace having slackened considerably in the past day or so because he was slowly running out of energy. Mindful of this, he lifted his nose to the sky and called for @Redshank — maybe together they could find something to eat and get some life back in their bones.

Set around April 6th - 8th. Tagged for mention, but open!

Partridge. 

Well, technically, they were grouse, but Niamh didn't know that. The thicket smelled like birds, and the kind of birds that would peck along on the ground- much better than those stuffy old birds who thought they were too good for that and continuously lived out of reach in the trees. Not that birds were Niamh's favourite, but they could do in a pinch, and the tall girl was almost always hungry. Being alone meant that she generally had to search for smaller prey, which meant that she was also almost always on the prowl for food. It'd be nice, she thought, to eventually be able to get out of this period of life which meant she was almost always hungry- but it didn't look like that day was coming anytime soon. 

It was hard to see very far in the thicket, and she felt herself constantly ducking her head as she moved along, trying to avoid getting brambles in her eyes. She'd already picked up a few burrdocks that clung to her coat like unwelcome tagalongs, but she'd see to those later, once she was out of this thicket. She sneezed softly, when a branch tickled her nose, and it was only on the inhale that she caught the male's scent; he was somewhere nearby, definitely in the thicket, but she couldn't see him even if she craned her neck to see over the bushes. 

She flinched in surprise when he howled, and her ears turned back. He was closer than she thought; but he had an intriguing rasp to his voice. He was calling for someone, and she knew it wasn't her- but she was still interested. She had a feeling he was looking for something, and she was looking for nothing. Coyly, she answered; partially wanting just to let him know she was in the area, and partially wanting to be invited into whatever it was he was doing.

The sound of a call startled him so strongly that his summons for Redshank died halfway, resembling the violent shift in pitch you might expect from a depressed rubber chicken. Screech did not know the voice but once the adrenaline shock wore off he began investigating, eager to find the stranger and figure out if they were friend or foe. It didnt take long - he was emboldened by the fact Redshank wasn't far, so even if Screech met hostility he had some sort of backup available.

The stranger caught his eye moments later; this healthy looking wolf cloaked in cream and gold. They seemed calm enough, maybe even hungry, and so Screech chuffed - motioning quietly to invite them closer in case there was prey nearby. He wagged the tip of his tail as a friendly show for them too, in case he looked menacing with the missing eye and hungry, fatigue-riddled expression on his face.

An answer didn't come- and the howl he'd let out died quickly and a bit roughly, and she wondered vaguely if she'd caused him insult or surprise; maybe he'd thought he was alone in the thicket, and wasn't looking for company, except for the wolf he'd actually called for. Truth be told, it hadn't been terribly polite of her, to answer someone else's call...But she didn't exactly feel terribly sorry or ashamed for it. He knew she was in the area then, at least, so she could continue on without worrying about surprising him in person. 

She stopped in her tracks and perked her ears when he came into sight- at least, she assumed it was the same wolf who'd howled not so long ago. Her hackles bristled just slightly in surprise, but the tip of her tail waved from side to side, just as his did. He invited her closer, and she did just that, bobbing her head and pouncing forward with a playful bound which transitioned into a trot as she closed the distance between them, slowing once again to a walk and finally to a halt once she reached him. Her ears turned back slightly, and her tail lowered, still waving side to side. 

He looked like he was about her age, but it was really hard to peg a number on him. He was quite thin, indicative that he was about the same age as her, but the scars on his face could have suggested a bit more age and experience; had the right side not been so scarred, she might have properly been able to guess how old he was. Still- young like her, but not so young he couldn't survive on his own...Though he certainly looked like he'd had a rough time of it. Not at all put off by his rough appearance, Niamh dropped into a play-bow and tilted her head to the side. 

"Hey stranger," She said, "Wanna hunt? I'm hunnnngry."

The stranger didn't attack him, which was a first. They didn't mock him or try to chase him off, which was honestly so refreshing that Screech didn't know what to do when they dipped low and appeared to invite him closer. Her voice reminded him of his friend Seelie - or maybe it was the cheerfulness they exuded that was so similar. Still, Screech knew not to drop his guard. This could be a trick.

I'm hungry too, but I'm waiting for someone. He remarked cooly, but not with the same egregious tone he usually used on strangers; he did not bristle or try to club her with his words, and settled in to an unremarkable (and uncharacteristic) seriousness. Who are you? The boy asked pointedly, choosing to fill the time with idle chatter - get to know this stranger while they waited for Redshank. The more wolves the merrier, after all.

Her lips parted slightly and she nodded when he confessed he was waiting for someone. Part of her wondered if he was waiting for a girlfriend- she wasn't sure why the thought struck her, it just did. She thought about teasing him about it- but then again, she didn't know him well enough to be that cheeky. For all she lacked in experience, she did have some good common sense. "Cool cool," she replied, content to wait to see if his friend actually did show up; maybe his friend was as battle scarred as he was- she wouldn't be surprised. 

"I'm Niamh." She said. "I belong nowhere and to no one," She added, foolishly forgetting that this could be used against her; he, at least, had a friend in the area. Wolves took solace in having a pack to rally behind them should they get in a sticky situation- but Niamh hadn't experienced anything to make her any wiser about giving out personal information. "You?" she asked, wondering if perhaps he and his friend were travelling together, as she and her brother had, or if there was more to it than that.

Niamh. It was more of a sound than a name, but he couldn't really comment when his own name was so stupid. Even his nickname had become something of a bother to him - so when she turned the conversation back upon him, Screech realized it was his chance to really start over; he could be anyone, anything, but he'd have to be quick or the moment would stretch too long and she'd know he was lying. In the end, it was a bit of an awkward pause but he had to go with the tried and true: My friends call me Screech.

Thinking of Redshank now, the boy paused to look over his shoulder, ears turning. I haven't seen anything edible around here besides those.. really tall birds, like, the heck are those? He turned back to regard her, fixing that single eye on her as if she had answers. Have you been here long? Maybe we can all work together - ah, once my buddy gets here. Where the heck was Redshank anyways? Screech was getting antsy.

Screech. She smiled, imagining the process his parents went through when picking out a name for him. "Were you a loud pup or what?" She asked, teasing gently with reference to his name. She could imagine herself doing something like that- naming pups based on how they were when they were born- but she'd likely just come up with something like Potato or Chubby, names that wouldn't necessarily suit them when they got older. Considering the tone of his voice now, it wasn't exactly what she would have chosen for him- but she still kind of liked it nonetheless. "I'd name a kid Screech. Just imagine how well it works- 'SCREECH! Let go of your brother's nasty-ass tail and get back in the den!' She said, doing her best to imitate what she considered to be a nagging mother's voice. She laughed, and shrugged one shoulder. "I like it."

He mentioned the birds, and she was slightly confused when he pointed out that the birds had been tall. She scrunched her nose slightly, trying to think of some kind of tall bird- and she shook her head. "Dunno. I just saw partridges, but they're short and brown." They were technically grouse, but she didn't know the difference. "H'ain't been here long, just kind of been on the move for a couple of months. I take it you're from around here though?" She asked, building her assumption based simply on the fact that he referred to the place as a 'here,' as though it meant something to him. Plus he had a buddy, and friends that called him Screech. He wanted to wait for his friend, and she nodded, sitting down. They could wait, sure- but if he didn't show up soonish, she felt fairly certain she could convince him to hunt just with her. Less to share with!

His ears flipped back as she began to enact "Life According to Niamh," and was assailed with some bad acting but also, the painful recollection of being that kid, and having that family, which was all over now. He gave a half-assed smile in return to her accolades regarding his name, and while he could've spared himself the trouble my telling her the truth - that his name was Titmouse - he suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to see that reaction play out before his eyes.

Jeeze, kid, stop thinking about the Caldera already - you're dead to them.

Partriges? He repeated, zeroing in on the conversation in order to shove away the thoughts of his family. He wasn't loud enough to cut through her words though, and soon the conversation had flowed in another direction, one that made him think fast: I've been all over the place. Can't go backwards, y'know? But I got tired of that, and so me'n my best friend decided to stop runnin' around and stay here. Then, as an afterthought, You could stay here too, if you want. I'm sure we can find bigger targets if you did - so you wouldn't go hungry.

Screech didn’t seem to be as amused by her speculation regarding his name, so with a somewhat awkward smile she told herself to tone it down a touch. Not all wolves liked her sense of humour- a couple of her older siblings and uncles hadn’t cared for her rambunctiousness when she’d been younger- but at least her brother had enjoyed it. 

He wasn’t terribly clear about where exactly he was from, but still she got the impression he hadn’t wandered too far from where he’d been born. He and his friend had chosen to settle down- and she was quite surprised when he invited her to join them. ”Really? Like start a pack?” Her brother had joined up with a gang of yearling males to do the same. ”Or just kind of band together with no label?” She wasn’t sure she wanted the committment of a pack- but simply having others around for the benefit of hunting was appealing to her.

The longer he spent in her company the more at ease he felt - and hungry. Clearly his friend Redshank was too busy somewhere  (maybe he had found something to eat already) so that left the two of them to figure something out. She seemed eager enough.

"Maybe," he replied to her question with a noncommittal shrug. "I wouldn't mind having a home base, but nothing is decided yet. If you join us for hunts that's pretty awesome too." Then tbey could get a real feel for things. Maybe if the food was good enough they could start there?

Screech didn’t seem too committed to starting a pack, but having someone to hunt with would definitely be an advantage. Perhaps this was her chance to do what her brother had done- join a somewhat aimless group of wolves her age and perhaps spin a bit of motivation into the creation of a proper pack. Then again, she did like living like a vagrant- maybe she wasn’t as goal oriented as her brother.

”Sounds good to me, buddy,” She said. ”I still kind of like to wander a bit- so like your friend, heh, I might not always be around. But I’ll touch base pretty often.” She said. ”If that’s cool with you?”

He might've cared more about her commitment if he was a leadership kinda guy, or if he really thought they'd make it big here in the great unknown. Screech wasn't like that at all - he just wanted the safety afforded by multiple bodies; bodies he would selectively choose to keep around. Whether Niamh would be one of those bodies remained to be seen (and he wasn't desperate enough to beg her). So he just shrugged again and murmured, Sure, whatever.

What was more important in the immediate future was food. She'd mentioned partridges as if she knew what they were, and maybe how to hunt them. The boy zeroed in on that part of their conversation and backtracked a little: So where did you see these birds, and how many do you think we can take down? I'm tired of waiting - lets go eat something. He didn't worry about how to get them because he was a wolf and they were (supposedly) small birds with no brains. Without waiting for her answer, he was already leading the way through the grasses with his nose low, searching for bird scent.

Niamh was releived to find that it was an all in or all out sort of situation- there were no expectations for her, which had always worked to her advantage. Not that she was afraid to commit- she simply didn’t see the point to it. But having a solid hunting partner was an asset.

”Sure! I’m starved.” She said, standing up and shaking out her coat. ”They’re like...Snack sized. Rabbit sized, and brown.” She said. ”They can fly, but they hide in the brush. Might get one each? They’ll all fly up at once so we gotta dash in and jump to catch one.” She said. Of course, the thicket was full of grouse, not partridge- but Niamh had only smelled the birds, and hadn’t seen them to know they were hunting something quite different.

The boy nodded as she gave a description. 'Snack sized, gotcha.'
If they could fly short distances, maybe that would be easier than having to chase entirely terrestrial things all over the place - the scrubland was quite dense. Not that he was that mindful. If I scare up a bunch then grab 'em, and I'll do the same if you see any. That was the whole plan - simple. Easy.

Not knowing how to proceed made things a little awkward, but Screech was ready to go as soon as she was; soon the pair were scouring the tall grasses, and every little tremble or twitch of the wind through the hedge would make him bolt and snap, hoping to scare something up. It didn't take long - on one such attempt, there was a flurry of activity as the bulbous forms of various birds came hooting out of the reeds. Screech was hot on their heels, trying to aim and snap, but failing miserably without depth perception.

Niamh nodded, and parted ways with Screech, figuring that it would be easier to hunt a bird solo. They hadn’t discussed strategies, anyway, but she assumed he knew more or less how bird hunting worked. As a lone wolf, prairie birds weren’t too hard to catch, and took less energy as it was all just a dash and a jump.

She scented a few behind a thicket, and crouched, but just as she was about to make a dash for them, Screech did the same not far away for another group of birds and hers startled as well. Both she and the birds had the same anount of warning though, and she was quick to lunge forward. Two grouse floundered clumsily into the air, and Niamh sprang just after they took off. She was able to catch the tailfeathers of one and yanked them clean out. She fell back to the earth with a mouthful of feathers and the bird did its best to fly away, but without a tail, it was a pitiful sight. 

”That one!” She called out to Screech, and began to trail it on the ground, knowing the bird’s flying ability would be significantly hindered. ”Get him when he comes down!” She shouted and sure enough, the bird’s altitude dropped as it tried to fly away, veering this way and that without a tail to help it steer.

He reacted as quickly as he could, but some of the birds were fleeing on his bad side and he couldn't adjust in time. When Niamh came bursting from the grass nearby - chasing her own trove of pheasants - she directed him with shouts towards the terrified birds. He did as instructed and tried to leap at them, snapping as they came down; after the flurry of feathers calmed he was left standing over a half-dead bird with a broken wing. Beside it was a smear of blood, and one other plump bird with what appeared to be a broken leg, trying to hobble away. Screech felt very powerful all of a sudden - he had never been much of a hunter, and the accomplishment relieved him. He lunged at this bird with the broken legs and, grasping it by the neck, bit down and then tossed it towards Niamh. The bird was round enough that it could've been likened to a feathery ball. Maybe it was gross to play a game with the suffering birds, but Screech didn't care - he was happy for the first time in a while.

She looked up just in time to see Screech make a lucky catch, and she grinned, just as she wheeled to leap over another shrub, abandoning the bird whose tailfeathers she'd ripped out to pounce at one that had only just gotten the memo that there was danger in the area. This grouse had obviously opted to hide rather than fly, but in the end, it was a poor decision. She ended its life before it could make a sound, and stood for a moment, oggling the bird that she only now just realized wasn't a partridge. This was bigger than a partridge, and had different feathers, especially around its chest. 

She looked up when something in her peripheral vision came hurtling toward her, and at the last moment she was able to snap the bird Screech had tossed her out of mid air. She laughed through the feathers, spun in a circle and with a whip of her head, sent it flying back toward him. Without hesitation, she then bounded toward him, and with a playful growl, pounced, hoping that throwing the bird back at him had been enough to distract him for a moment so she could catch him off guard.

The bird-ball went zooming at Niamh's head, but she reacted without missing a beat and caught it, then threw it back at him. Her laughter was caught by the feathers but he saw the mirth in her eyes, then the bundle of fresh meat; he went for it without thinking and fell short, forgetting for a second or two that he only had the one eye (he should be used to this type of stuff by now but Screech wasn't commonly a hunter, which is probably why both he and Redshank were in such poor condition). It didn't matter much though, the bird-ball had been a good distraction and before he knew it, Screech was being bowled over by the blondie.

She came shooting after him while the bird unceremoniously landed in the grass, and her pounce sent him tumbling awkwardly backwards with her full weight on top of him. He landed with a grunt, and then squirmed, but inevitably called uncle much too soon: Ah, okay, okay, you got me!

Though they both ended up taking a tumble, Niamh’s laughter continued, softening when she lifted her head and looked down at Screech who gave in without much of a fight. There wasn’t much to him- he was much thinner than she, so she figured she could probably have tackled him without the element of surprise.

Playfully, she clicked her teeth together, as though to nip his cheek but she purposefully missed by a few inches. Chuckling, she booped the tip of her nose against his and got off him, trotting toward the bird she’d killed. With a hungry growl, she laid down and started plucking the feathers from it, pleased that they had had a successful hunt.