Redhawk Caldera rejoice, because you're trying your best

Set after his thread at Lake Rodney, so it might be odd.

He was a mess when he came upon the fringes of the caldera. Physically the lifestyle of a rogue had agreed with him, and he'd grown like a weed - but it was the recent days that had begun to wear him down. He was hungry, thin, with matted fur and tired eyes. Emotionally Titmouse was as healthy as could be expected: so, not very. Meeting his sister had not gone well at all. The boy still refused to think of Towhee as his sister; he felt too embarrassed by the truth she carried. Rather than get carried away by his guilt, the boy latched on to the safety net he had created for himself. His other self, Screech. 

Screech wouldn't be afraid of a little girl spouting nonsense!
Screech was strong enough to survive on his own, but would be a great asset to any pack!
Screech -- needed to get over himself a little bit.

Tit centered himself on the idealized version of himself, assumed a slight swagger, and tried to ignore the virulent sensation of anxiety that ate away at his gut; at some point someone would find him, and he would be able to plead his case. Let me join you! He would proclaim. I can hunt! I can fight! I am good! I am Screech, he practiced with a low and mumbling voice, A true warrior would never abandon their pack. The boy swallowed a lump in his throat, and continued to trace a route along the territory outskirts, too nervous to call out for anyone.