Heron Lake Plateau We might fall in love- or fall apart

Raven had never been so close to panic in her life, but she forced herself to remain calm and think through the situation. His breathing, while slow, was regular, as was his heartbeat. He didn't seem to be in any immediate pain, and his body temperature felt normal. He was out cold, though, but there was something weirdly different about this compared to the average "knocked-out" state. She chewed her lip, her features knitted in an expression of helpless concern.

Her attention was so wholly focused on her brother that it took her a second to realize Niamh was speaking to her. "He's not just going to sleep forever..." The words hung over them like ominous thunderheads, and it took Raven a few beats to find her voice. "He could die," she said, her eyes grave and her voice somber. "Head trauma is bad, and there's...nothing I can do." That was the worst part of this whole thing: her overwhelming powerlessness. There was absolutely nothing she could do to help him, make him wake up, keep him alive. "We have to get him back home. I'm going to call for help. I don't want you exerting yourself -- you're most likely concussed too." Taking a few deep breaths to still her thoughts, she stepped aside and tossed up a howl for @Quixote, a note of urgency clear in the mellow tone of her voice.

Niamh's blood ran cold when Raven eyed her levelly and told her the truth. It took her a few moments to even register the other words she spoke, and Raven had already called out for Quixote before all the words fell into place. Screech could die- and Raven was getting Quixote to help them carry him to his den. She was concussed too, but clearly not as badly, which she just couldn't understand. She'd thought that she'd taken the brunt of the damage- but somehow, Screech was the one who was critically injured, and by her head hand. 

"My den." She blurted. "My den. He goes to my den. It's soft. It's my job, to watch him; he goes to my den." She said, steely determination in her voice as she stared down at Screech's prone body. She was still overwhelmed, and in mild shock from what Raven had said. She stayed where she was, mutely staring down at Screech, the ache in her head completely forgotten now that something else had begun to hurt terribly.

Quixote was watching a small group of ducks that were quacking away happily a distance from the shore.  He was trying to figure out whether any of them were slow enough that he'd be able to actually able to catch them.  Man, he was such a novice at this crud.  Hm.  Maybe that on----

He stood up sharply as the howl echoed across the territory.  Huh?  Raven was calling and it didn't sound like a social call, so he was quick to head in that direction.  

Niamh, Screech, and of course Raven were all there, but Screech looked like he was on the ground.  Was he dead or something?  But why would he get called then?  If something dangerous was around, they didn't seem freaked out enough just from what he could see.  Quixote slowed down and walked up to Raven's side, nudging her shoulder as he came to a stop,  What's going on?  Or happened?  'Was he dead?'  Though that seemed inappropriate to ask.

Her mate was surprisingly quick to arrive, and Raven was grateful for his prompt response. Not that Screech was going anywhere anytime soon, but she would feel better once her brother was settled someplace safer and more comfortable. "They've both suffered head injuries," she responded to Quixote's question, her tone calm and matter-of-fact despite the fear that raced like quicksilver ice in her veins. She was profoundly skilled at keeping a level head in the moment, but she was sure she'd freak out later when it was just her and Qui by themselves. "Screech got the worst of it. He's knocked out hard, could be a coma. I need your help getting him back to... Niamh's den." She decided she was okay with him staying there, so long as the delta had no problem with Raven being there multiple times a day to look after him.

She hated to drag Screech but didn't see how else they'd get him back home. They'd just have to be careful, particularly with his head, and take their time so as to avoid hurting him further.

She couldn't- wouldn't look Quixote in the eye when he arrived. Raven filled him in on what had happened, more or less, and her ears remained flattened against her skull. How idiotic she felt, having been stupid enough to try and lay creech out simply because she was angry- and now there was a possibility he could die...Raven hadn't specifically blamed her for it, or pointed out that none of this would have happened had she kept her temper in check, but she didn't exactly express that it wasn't Niamh's fault, either. Niamh herself wasn't entirely sure what to think. 

With the assistance of the other two- who actually ended up doing the most work, considering that Niamh's headache began to come back as the shock wore off- they dragged Screech to her den nearby, trying to keep him as still as possible while doing so. Niamh said next to nothing; there was a loud, suffocating barrage of white noise inside her head, and the only words she could make out of it were

this is all my fault.

I'm assuming this is wrapping up?  BOSS MY DUDE AROUND, WAT DO.

He glanced over to Niamh a few times while they prepped to get out of here, but she seemed pretty well wrapped up in her own world.  Whatever, he'd leave her alone since her brain was probably pretty fried right now anyway.  Hopefully she was coherent enough that she'd be able to point the way in a few minutes since he had no idea where her den was.  Quixote took a few steps forward, looking Screech over as he debated how would be the best way to move him, Ok.  Fair enough.  Any warnings or stuff?  Hauling him along by the scruff seemed pretty obvious, but was that too close to his head?   Who freakin' knew.  Raven, help plz.

Minor PP here -- hope it's coo'!

The idea of fault never crossed Raven's mind. She didn't blame Niamh for this, or even Screech himself. Sometimes stupid accidents just happened, and as far as she was concerned, that was the case here. Qui asked her if she had any warnings, and she shook her head as she replied, "Just mind his head. Try not to let it hit anything hard." All jokes about him being "hard-headed" aside, she was terrified that even moving him at all might be enough to kill him. But it had to be done -- neither he nor Niamh were safe out here, exposed as they were on the outskirts of their territory. They both needed to be back home, where Raven could be close by in case either of them took a turn for the worse.

As Quixote took hold of Screech's scruff, Raven grabbed the thick, loose fur of the ruff along his shoulders and pulled alongside him. Screech wasn't much larger than she was, but moving his dead weight took no small amount of effort on the part of the alpha pair. They managed it however, with Niamh giving them directions and Raven keeping a very close eye on both injured wolves the whole time, and soon they were back at the delta's small den. A quick inspection of the cozy little shelter revealed a soft bed of feathers -- which surprised and impressed Raven, honestly -- and then they were pushing Screech's corpselike ass limp body into its shadowy depths. Once he was settled, Raven blew out a breath and checked him again, ensuring that he was breathing and his heart rate were still steady.

Turning to Niamh, a look of such compassion came over her as she said, "Niamh...don't think that I've forgotten about you. You make sure to take it easy and rest, okay? Push yourself too hard and you could end up like him."

It wasn't easy, moving Screech back to her den. Progress was slow, and the dull ache slowly returning to her temple began to amplify so that by the time they got Screech settled inside on a bed of down, she had close to a full-blown migraine. Her lips drooped in a pained frown, and she looked dolefully up at Raven when she was spoken to- even moving her eyes hurt. She nodded quietly, and without a word, tucked herself in beside Screech, too tired and hurting to chew him out even more now that he was finally somewhere safe and sound. She glanced to Quixote briefly, and wordlessly tucked her head beneath her paws and tried to block the world out, so that slumber would tear her away from the pulsating pain behind her eyes.

Last post for Qui I think!

Dragging Screech along was annoying, it felt like they went on forever, even though they obviously had an end point somewhere.  The longer it took, the more Quixote thought that Screech was totally a moron and wondered why they bothered, but then again, Quixote was probably pulling the most weight so maybe he was just slowly getting tired.  Eventually they got there, so it was time to dump Screech since from his understanding, that was about all they could do, anyway.

He was, however, quick to get out of the way.  It wasn't like there was likely much room down there, so once Screech was dumped in the feathery bed, Quixote headed back out to wait for Raven.  And slightly mope about the fact it was obvious Niamh was way better at catching birds than he was. Harumph.  Whatever.  He plopped himself outside the entry, peering in from outside just in case he was summoned back in.  Quixote was pretty useless now that the physical labor was done.

Raven gently, quietly fussed over the pair of them until she was sure they were as safe as they could be under the circumstances, then -- after a murmured instruction to Niamh to call her if she was needed -- emerged from the cramped den and rejoined Quixote. She nuzzled him, grateful for his help, and whispered thanks in his ear. Stepping away to peek in the den one last time, making sure both wolves were still breathing, she looked at him and said softly, "I'm going to stay here for now, just in case anything happens." She smiled affectionately at him as she curled up a few feet from the mouth of the den, wrapping her long tail around her forepaws. She would keep watch all evening and through the night.