Bramblepoint the world we know is turning

At daybreak he'd pulled free of the log that had been his impromptu shelter, shaken off, done his business, and then begun moving again. It took about thirty minutes before he realized he'd left the skull behind - oh shit!! - and only a handful for him to retrace his steps and zoom back in to the glen. 

A few hours later, Titmouse was crossing over a slow-running stream. The bend in the river seemed lethargic, but it was shallow and easy to cross. It wasn't until he was on the other side and trying to figure out where to go next, that he saw the forest. It wasn't like he could remember visiting the Bramblepoint so many months ago, but... There was a momentary blip in Titmouse's brain. Something that startled him, made him pause and drop the skull at his feet. 

Titmouse bolted around the last remaining trees, climbed over a big stupid log which sat distended from the forest, and finally came to a halt when there was nothing but field around him - because in the distance he could see the silver body of the boy!

An image of Liffey briefly flashed across his vision. The blurry backdrop of a meadow peppered with similar trees. Titmouse looked towards the forest and then away from it, as if trying to make up his mind about something; but he didn't recognize the forest all that well. It was just a feeling... Like he'd been here before. With a crease to his brow that made him look much older than he really was, Titmouse grabbed the cat skull and began investigating the fringe of the forest.

It smelled... Like a forest. 
It looked... Like a forest.

There was nothing special about this place at all, yet for some reason, he felt like he was being directed into it - along one of the maze-like paths, around a weirdly familiar-but-not old log which had seen better days; maybe he had been here before? But everything was orange and dark, covered in old leaves and decaying like the rest of the world. Although he was confused, Titmouse decided to spend a few hours looking around - just to ease his mind.

It wasn't often that anything drew Towhee away from the caldera, yet she found herself enthralled by the fall colors sweeping through the neighboring forest. When she finished her patrol on the northern side of the caldera, she peered at the distant foliage, licking her lips thoughtfully. Finally, she broke free from the borders and headed that way, nostrils flaring to drink in the sweet smell of rotting leaves. They felt crunchy underfoot as she entered the woods, though there was no associated noise for her, of course.

There was quite the fascinating growth of mushrooms growing among the roots of a maple tree and she bent to inspect it. Then a flash of movement caught her eye and she blinked upward in time to watch a strange wolf—made even stranger by the artifact held in his mouth—weave around a log blocking a narrow game trail.

A sound of warning escaped her—a brisk whuff!—as Towhee stiffened and pivoted to face the wolf, her expression unimpressed and aloof (not unlike her avatar).

If it weren't for the proliferation of dead leaves every-fucking-where, Titmouse might've been able to adapt to the rest of the forest. The scent of all the leaves was quite pungent. He thought he could smell something like deer behind this smell, or maybe rabbit, but as soon as he began to scour the path before him for clues, he was overwhelmed by the autumn aromas. It was irritating, but not as irritating as when he lifted his head back up and was face-to-face with a gaunt dark creature. She made a noise which indicated her own surprise, which was timed really well with Titmouse's dropping of the skull. He was startled enough to bristle and swagger back a step too - a great cacophony rising up as he crunched upon the many leaves.

Oh shit! He screeched. It felt like his skin had tried to jump off of his body; his heart skipped a beat as it rocketed to his throat, and then he was left to deal with the uptick in adrenaline in the best way he knew how: shouting. Where the hell did you come from?! You -- the fuck, man -- you scared me! Not fair. As he went off on his tirade though, he began to look to the ground and search for his skull, but he couldn't see the white of the bleached bone anywhere. Jeeze -- where... Where did it go? You made me drop it! Tit's tail writhed behind him as a sign of agitation, but he seemed intent on scouring the ground, and barely looked up to the stranger that had materialized out of nowhere.

He dropped the skull in evident surprise, then began jabbering so rapidly that Towhee didn't stand a chance at reading his lips. Her own pursed in distaste, her orange eyes narrowing even more, and she could see that his mouth was still moving as she tried to cut in with, "Can you slow down? I can't hear you and you're talking too fast for lipreading." Hopefully that was self-explanatory.

But he was scouring the ground now, likely rooting around for his skull in the leaf litter on the forest floor. Towhee made no move to help. She didn't move closer, nor away. She simply stood her ground, watchful, eyes widening ever so slightly when it suddenly occurred to her that he looked vaguely familiar. Unbeknownst to her, she sucked in a loud breath when she realized she was either looking at her long-lost brother or his very convincing doppelgänger.

He didn't really understand what she said, being much more focused on finding his prize. Eventually he did, and hoisted it free from the leaves before plunking it down by his paws. He placed one atop the dome of the skull to make sure he did not forget it, and then spat some crumbled leaf garbage out of his mouth. Bleh.

What? Lip-reading? Tit's ears twitched but he didn't connect the dots, probably because he left before finding out about his sister's disability. Or he'd forgotten. It wasn't like he'd recognized her yet. Running his tongue across his snout to make sure he was clean, he added: I said you are an ass, you should not scare people like that. He enunciated as best he could, but the crackling of his stupid voice obscured a lot of it; not that it mattered, if she had this superpower for real.

Feeling quite superior for telling the dark girl off, he bent and scooped up the skull again. Tsk, stupid 'orest, I ch'ooda gone for 'da m'derr instet, the boy grumbled around his hold on the skull, making a move as if he was going to turn around and do just that.

She was used to repeating herself, what with her speech impediment, though she didn't have much patience for it. "I'm deaf, remem—" she began to say when he cut her off and called her an ass. He enunciated it so clearly this time that there was no mistake. Towhee's eyes screwed up again as she glowered at him, though her curiosity was greater than her irritation.

"Titmouse?" she asked baldly as he reclaimed his skull. She had no idea he was still talking, as there was certainly no reading his lips with that thing plugging up his mouth. (Even wolves with perfect hearing probably couldn't understand him.) "Is that your name?" He certainly looked the part; not only did he look like a grownup version of the pup she dimly remembered, he also looked almost exactly like his namesake bird. Not unlike Towhee herself.

Titmouse? She'd said, catching him completely off-guard. This time he was silent, and while his mouth wanted to hinge and drop the skull again, instead he gripped it tightly. So tight in fact that there would be teeth marks scored in to the otherwise smooth dome for the rest of time.

It wasn't a name he was proud of. It wasn't one he'd freely given, either. Which begged the question - who the fuck was this?

With more care than he had previously shown, Tit placed the skull down and seemed to glower over it, scrutinizing the dark girl; he wasn't observant enough to recognize the autumn-like markings on her body, and the white bits were greyed within the woodlands many shadows. No, he still didn't make the connection. No, he stoutly refused, I'm... I'm Screech. Who the fuck are you?

His expression grew incredulous and Towhee's heart skipped a beat. Had she made a mistake? Were these markings more common than she believed? While she stewed on this, he set the skull back on the ground and gave a different name. It rung a belly dimly in the back of her head. She had never heard Titmouse's screeching, of course, but she vaguely remembered the nickname being used to describe him.

Still, she was suddenly dubious about his identity. "I'm Towhee Redhawk," she said even more slowly than usual. "You look just like a titmouse—and like my brother by the same name. He ran away—or disappeared or whatever—when we were a few months old..."

Her introduction stuns him. While the girl continues to talk, he hears only bits and pieces  (maybe because of her impediment, maybe because he realized  she is right and this new understanding feels like drowning) and quite suddenly blurts, "No! I'm not --- I told you already, I'm Screech!! I'm - my older brother is Rannoch, I am a warrior --- bears! I fight bears! I don't have ---- you're not my sister!"

Even while he's refusing to acknowledge her, fighting the embarrassment of the discovery, Titmouse knows he is telling lies and just trying to hold on to a truth that has never been real. He's backing up, forgetting the skull, and escaping - scampering back from this girl with her familiar name even though he just wants to be home with her.

Towhee couldn't hear his shouting, yet she recognized what he was doing all the same, having seen it dozens of times in her comrades. She bristled, her jaw dropping when he turned tail and scrambled away. If there was any impulse to give chase, she ignored it. The mercenary's toes clenched in the leafy soil underfoot as she leered at his fleeing back.

"Well—good riddance then! We don't want you around anyway! Deserter!" she shouted after him, quite possibly loud enough for the entire neighboring caldera to hear. She punctuated these words with a snort, then lingered there for a few moments longer before abruptly pivoting and marching back to the territory.