Heron Lake Plateau its easy to get hungry when you ain't got shit to lose.

Open to @Niamh since it's in her den, but others are welcome. Skip to the italics if you just wanna reply to him waking up! Forward-dated to June 11th.

There was nothing left.

He woke up again, and there was nothing there, no memory of the hours previous - of the days, months, maybe even years, spent traversing the incongruent universe that had sprung up around him. There was only this exact moment and before this Screech could only assume he had been asleep. There was nothing wrong. He was tired — no, he was thirsty — but the sensation was so vague that he quickly forgot about it.

The boy didn't feel out of place here, laying where he did, exposed on a hillside with waves of tall grass all around him. This was home — he did not doubt that the world he saw was merely a figment; something built in haste from trauma. It was so real. All of it — from the crashing waves of an impossible sea to the apple-tree-clouds, to the sight of Towhee running through the lake's shallows, to Raven with her children, and the strangers — the dark man and the angry red woman — -   --- -

The bits and pieces came back to him as his sleep dissipated. Yes, he could remember after all. There were many things lodged in his memory (these things that could not be) and Screech wanted to believe that this was truly the way the world was meant to be (these ghosts, calling for you).

He could hear singing, suddenly. It carried across the waving field of wheat, and so he unfurled his tightly coiled body and began to investigate - weaving in and out of the grass - until the singing grew louder. The sound of the grass shifting around him with the wind currents was loud, too. Soon the two stopped being separate - it was like the wind was singing, and the grass applauded.

There was something in front of him but he couldn't make it out. A shadow in the grass that was there, but then it wasn't. He heard laughter - sharp like birdsong, high and feminine, vaguely familiar - and delved through the sea of grass after it. The sound grew faint; he felt a quickness in his body, a racing to his heart that made his blood burn.

Screech tried to keep chasing that sound - but as it grew faint, it grew deep. Soon there wasn't laughter on the wind at all and he only heard the shifting of the grass, and the muscles of his legs felt so weak; they trembled, and he felt as if he could not stand. As he collapsed to the dirt (that wasn't there before -) he watched as the soil seemingly erupted around him, and the resulting dust cloud enveloped him. It filled his lungs. It weighted down his splayed limbs. 

He was c h oki ng — -

And with a final gasp, something swept in from outside of the cloud and pierced the scruff of his neck; he was aware of a sharp pain, and then a freedom as the ground slipped out beneath his body. No, that wasn't it — Screech saw his body, it was underneath him, and receding quickly, The grass stopped swaying, becoming a placid field of gold, and he kept on drifting up, up, up u p —

—He heard the sound of a hawk screeching, and bolted upright as if from a nightmare.

Towhee was standing over him and her friend X was soaring overhead, calling out in place of her voice; she stared down at him with a sullen expression — but then her voice arrived, except it was deeper than it should've been. There was no accent to her voice, no impediment, except a lack of emotion as she said, If you leave now, we'll never forgive you.

He knew that, though. He feared that.

If you must go, then go. Another voice arrived, it was not as judgemental as Towhee's but it was deep as well, and Screech could recognize it as Colt even before the man's body arrived beside his sister. He seemed just as lethargic; he looked old, like Finley looked old with her faded pelt, and it was then that Screech realized they both looked so worn and tired. They looked how he felt.

I don't want to, he wanted to say. Colt answered without moving his lips, It might be for the best.

No, he tried to say, feeling a tension in his jaw as if he were gritting his teeth but that went against what he willed, and Screech felt that panic well up inside of him again. That heat in his blood. NO, he wanted to shout, and rose up to his feet, shaking his head.

Why couldn't he speak? He should've been able to speak like them — but why didn't their mouthes move? This wasn't right. He shouldn't be hearing them -- —

He's getting it. Another voice, this one from behind him, so he spun to face the interloper with hackles bristling, and found himself face-to-face with the one eyed man from before. The red woman slunk along beside him, clicking her tongue against her teeth as if she is dissapointed. It might be too late, she mentions.

Too late?

Too late for what?

What's changed? She says next, and diverts her attention to Screech in a way that makes him stop his fussing. There is a sharpness to her expression, she looks at him shrewdly, and slips closer as if to give him a look over. So pathetic, this one. The rest were better - Stoat was better, and she only lived for moments. The woman paused and stared him down — challenging him, eye to eye — and then reached up with her pointed face and plucked at his eye. With one birdlike motion that golden thing was on the ground, and she was stepping on it.

It didn't hurt — it didn't hurt because he knew, somehow, that this had already happened. That he wasn't meant to have two - that mouthes were meant to be open - that these people weren't supposed to be here. Ah, but they both cut in now, sharing one voice: Not us, they said in unison, We are meant to be here, because we are nowhere. You - you should not be here.

You should go home. 

He frowned, but felt a yearning for something - answers, understanding, safety --

Go home, they commanded, and he winced back from their booming, overlapping voice.

-- family -

-—- thirst y

GO H—

Screech felt a desperate and greedy need overtake him as he woke up, and while he felt pressured by this deep desire to get on his feet and go, as soon as his eyes opened he felt only a pounding in his head —

And that's when he realized he was awake, laying within the confines of a den layered with feathers and flowers, and he moaned piteously as the hunger and thirst descended upon him. There was no telling how much of the past week he remembered; but he was a hollow person, now. His body had withered since the incident, and he could barely lift his head to ask for help.

She had just felled a duck and brought it to the den for Niamh —

but when she arrived, it was Screech who was awake.  She dropped the bird and gasped in fright, shock, surprise.. relief.  She looked to Niamh and then back at the boy, for this must have just happened.  Right?  She wouldn't have kept Screech waking up a secret, too?  Certainly not!

Hey, she said quietly, nosing the duck towards the den next to the singular apple she had left, the flowers.  Do you want me to go get Raven?  Do you want me to fuck off?  Go be useful?  Leave you alone?

Her first attempt at getting water into Screech had not been terribly successful- but still she persevered. If it did nothing but wet his lips, then that was something. She'd left her den- as she did very little these days- to go and fetch another clamshell of water, and had to take her time, once again, as she carried it back as carefully as she could. It was a delicate balancing act, trying to hold the shell just so in her teeth, without moving her jaws whatsoever, as it could easily flip over and dump out all the water...She knew- it had happened to her a couple of times already. This time, though, she did much better, and was just starting to think she got the hang of it.

She'd been dozing lightly when she felt Screech stir, and she looked over just in time to see him open his eyes and moan. "Screech," She breathed softly, probably more tenderly than she'd ever spoken to him...Or anyone else. She pushed herself to a seated position- but all of a sudden, her moment with Screech was disrupted. 

Her hackles raised as Ceara entered the den. While she had been fine with others coming and asking permission to enter, she was definitely not in the mood for visitors at this point; Screech was literally dying of hunger and thirst, and the clamshell she'd brought back sat, still full of water, not far away. 

 It was too much; she was immediately overwhelmed, and turned to Ceara, her ire returning simply from the tsunami of overwhelming emotions that had just engulfed her. "Get out!" She hissed, through bared teeth. She swept in between the two, ears pricked and shoulders hunched, protectively blocking Screech from Ceara's view. Ceara had brought food, which she didn't have the couth to appreciate just yet. "Get out. Go get Raven." She commanded, refusing to allow Ceara time to protest.

Her cheeks flushed red hot when she regarded Screech. How dare he wake up just when Ceara got there? She looked back to Ceara and gestured toward the den's entrance. If she faltered or even hesitated for a moment- she would be promptly chased out with snapping teeth.

 

last from me!

Her casual demeanor shifted into something more demure as she noticed the way Niamh regarded Screech so tenderly.  Her gut twisted hazardously but she couldn't discern if it was because she liked Screech or because she liked Niamh — or both!  She didn't have time to think about it anyway; the butterscotch delta's hackles bristled as Ceara furrowed her brows.

Wha- she stuttered just as Niamh shifted herself over Screech and started to scream.  "Get out!"  Her heart caught in her throat and beneath her flaming pelt she paled.  Ceara steeled herself, suddenly engulfed with anger.  Why?  Why should she have to leave?  The fur along her spine rippled to life and her lips peeled defensively before Niamh lunged towards her, fangs gnashing.

What the fuck, she choked as she was sent sprawling outside of the den, crouched in defense.  She regarded Niamh with a cold, dangerous glare before she bolted in search of @Raven.  

She found the medic by the lake as usual.  Her hackles were still raised in defiance of Niamh's attitude as she approached Raven, but something else had emerged too.  An ugly jealousy welled up inside her and threatned to spill down her cheeks.  Go see Niamh, she choked before she brusquely moved past the Redhawk matriarch.

She paced stiffly to the Northern edge of the Plateau, breaking into a run as she crossed the borders.  She tried not to cry and failed, tears flowing down her cheeks as she sobbed. 

Unaware of what was real and what was not, the boy struggled to make connections as things happened — and they happened so fast. He heard a softly spoken word — his name? — and his eyes opened groggily to take in the sight of the girl with golden fur. This didn't make sense; none of this did, between the hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and darkness, but also seeing Niamh so close to him. She was gone — she had burned up before his eyes —

Get out! She commanded. He didn't notice her mouth moving because he was wincing away from the sound of her voice, his ears slicking back — something moved at the den's mouth and all Screech could do was murmur pitifully and try to burrow in to the layers of down beneath himself.

Raven was caught off-guard by Ceara's voice and demeanor, and she almost ignored the she-wolf simply because she didn't appreciate being ordered about by lesser-ranked members of the pack. A flat-eared glare and an annoyed flick of her tail were the only indications she gave that she'd heard the fire-coated female. If Niamh needed her, she would have howled -- right?

In the seconds that followed, the more that Raven considered the situation, the less inclined she felt to stay put. After all, Niamh herself had been mildly concussed too. What if something had happened to her? If she'd passed out, she wouldn't have been able to call for help. But then why would Ceara look so pissed and upset? Had Screech died?

That got her moving, and it didn't take her long to arrive at the den. As she approached, she found herself thinking how peculiar it was that a non-breeding wolf would want to live in a den. She didn't enter the small opening, but caught sight of the blonde-furred delta in the shadows within and voiced a soft greeting, "Niamh? Everything okay in there?"

The way Ceara responded was enough to foul Niamh's temper even more and she lunged as the fiery female exited the den, snapping at the air to prove her point. It was unfair, the way she'd just reacted- but Niamh was a ball of feelings that had more or less been completely muted while Screech had been unconscious. When at first she'd been simply angry, as the days had worn on, she'd become increasingly more torn by guilt and grief, and had lapsed into a depression that was dark and grey, like a stormcloud with a belly full of rain. It wasn't until Screech's eyes had opened that that cloud had burst, and had exhaled a downpour of emotions that had unjustly caught Ceara in their midst. Her outburst had been a lightning flash- quick, unexpected and untempered until Niamh could no longer see the female's bright, beautiful pelt. 

She turned back to Screech who continued to moan, and she carefully picked up the clamshell and brought it toward him, settling it tenderly into the down near Screech's muzzle. "Screech," She said, tone suddenly calm but not without a hint of authority, like the way a mother would speak to a child after they'd been reprimanded, and asked yet again to do what their mother had asked in the first place. "Drink," She said, and sat beside him, fur finally settling back into place now that Ceara was gone. The storm which had brewed and broken so suddenly was now nothing more than a gentle, nourishing rain. She nudged the back of his head, and ran her tongue over his brow; if he needed help getting propped up in order to drink, she would assist him. 

She simply trusted that Ceara would find Raven, but found herself growing more and more irritated with her packmate the longer she had to wait for Raven. She did not want to leave Screech's side, though, so in those tender moments they had alone together, she softened, and began to comb her teeth through the fur at his shoulder. She trembled lightly, as she regarded his face. "I thought you were going to die," She whispered, and tucked her muzzle beneath his jawbone. [b]"I'm so sorry, Screech." She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but she moved when she heard Raven's voice speaking from the mouth of her den. 

Collecting herself, she moved away from Screech and peered through the low entrance and couldn't help the hitch in her voice when she spoke. "He's awake. He just woke up," She said, and moved back. While she didn't want to let someone else close to Screech, Raven was an exception, as she was the one wolf who might be able to do something to help him come about faster. Ceara had left a duck, which Niamh only registered then. She waited though, for Raven to assess her friend, waiting with baited breath for a good prognosis.

There was so much pain here; he could hear it in her voice when she returned. He could feel it in every inch of his body. She touched him and he would've winced if he had the energy. At the very least, Screech quieted - he sought the comfort she afforded him but did not do much else. He no longer fussed, but he also did not reach for the water that she offered.

I thought you were going to die, said the golden thing with Niamh's face, before pressing against his jawline as if to slyly reach for his throat — the boy was focused on the strange foreboding sensation of her teeth being so close — then she was gone, and he felt the absence in the form of a growing chill.

Nothing really went through his mind, then. He was alone. There was the faint sound of conversation but he couldn't hone-in on it, regardless of how close they were. Niamh's body blocked the entrance for a few moments, but she moved aside for Raven. Screech rested, because he couldn't do much else, and yearned for sleep to take him again — to propell him somewhere else, like before.

This wasn't right — this wasn't him, this wasn't life, this wasn't real.

Sorry for the hold-up, guys. Needed a break for a few days.

In the days that had elapsed since Screech had fallen into his coma, Raven had noticed that Niamh's protectiveness over her brother had taken on an intensity that was almost overkill for a wolf merely protecting a packmate. The butterscotch gamma had, of course, relented when Raven came around, but she was aware that anyone lesser-ranked than Niamh herself was hard-pressed to get a glimpse of Screech. On one hand, it was good to know that the comatose Screech was well-guarded. She didn't have to worry about his safety while trapped in his helpless state. But on the other hand, Niamh's behavior raised a lot of questions in Raven's mind. Was she in love with him? Did she have any idea what sort of minefield that was?

Probably not.

Niamh moved aside so Raven could examine Screech, and the petite alphess ducked into the small den. Not for the first time, she appreciated the soft, downy bed of feathers that lined Niamh's den. It felt nice to walk on them. She crouched down beside Screech and immediately noticed that everything was different. He was dazed and woozy, for sure, and very much out of it. But he was awake. Elation filled her and she couldn't help the grin that came over her face or the wagging of her tail in the feathers behind her. "Screech," she whispered softly. "Welcome back." So overwhelming was her joy that she wanted to jump on him, nuzzle and hug and cover him with kisses, but she managed to restrain herself, giving him space to breathe and gather his senses.

Niamh waited with her breath partially held as Raven approached Screech. She wanted to hear a prognosis- some confirmation that he was going to be ok, and that everything would be better soon. She wanted to hear the alpha ask him questions, and to hear Screech respond. She sat there, between the clamshell full of water and the duck that Ceara had brought, not quite knowing what to do as Raven greeted Screech. Niamh perked her ears, waiting to hear if he finally said something back.

Since Screech is PPC now, we can probably wrap this up. :) Mildly PPing him in accordance with the PPC guidelines.

Screech was responsive, but he was still very woozy. His nose was hot and dry, his tongue leathery and parched. His body temperature was elevated and his breathing was a little rapid. Raven suspected severe dehydration, and it wasn't surprising considering he'd been comatose for so long. She and Niamh both had done their best to keep water going into him -- the gamma with her little shell, and the healer with large clumps of moss soaked in the lake -- but it wasn't enough. She reached for the small shell of water that he had initially ignored and urged him to drink it. He did his best, but he was unsteady and still very out of it, and they ended up spilling more of it than he actually got down his throat.

After making sure he was stable, she emerged from the den and faced Niamh. She felt a great deal of gratitude to the blonde she-wolf for watching over her brother the way that she had, and a glimmer of it shone in her eyes as she looked at Niamh. "He's coming to, and he seems okay, but he really, really needs more water. I'm going to run to the lake and get some, if you don't mind staying here and keeping an eye on him. Try to keep him awake if you can."

While Ceara had been a rude, uninvited guest, Niamh calmed when she saw the way Raven was with Screech. Niamh wanted a prognosis- some description of how he was, or just some assurance that he was going to be ok, and that it was all over- but instead, she was loving and motherly toward him. It soothed Niamh's already fried nerves, and she slid to the ground, resting her chin on her paws and watching as the healer tended to Screech gently, watching painfully as he tried to drink but didn't end up being very successful. 

Raven stood and left the den and Niamh followed, remaining halfway in the low entrance at a crouch, and she looked up at Raven with brown eyes that were now filled with a surge of emotion since Screech was awake. Raven would go get water- but before she could leave, Niamh swept forward with a small whine and pressed her muzzle into the fur of the alpha's chest appreciatively. "Thank you," She peeped, voice barely above a whisper, before she turned and slid back into the den, to watch over Screech and keep him awake, as the doctor had ordered.