Meadowlark Prairie rancid dinner with the pope

He had never been all that bright and really, Screech had to try pretty hard to think on his feet. She harassed him for an answer and all he could do was think, what would Blackfeather do? And his gut reaction was to say, I don' needda reason! You thingkh a keller neehs a reason? His voice got louder and more shrill despite the nasal quality to it, taking on a slightly panicked tone. She was probably able to see through his deception quite easily at this point but Screech didn't think, he merely reacted. It was the same as when that pale girl had collapsed before him - he merely reacted and ran - and now, realizing he wasn't some badass villain, a killer, or anything to be frightened of, everything seemed to sink in.

That girl was dead. He wasn't the reason, but she was still dead and someone was going to blame him and, knowing his luck, he was going to die too! Screech's breathing picked up in tempo at that point; he felt his heart pounding in his ears and a sense of claustrophobia surround him on all sides, despite being out in the open. He shook his head and stumbled backwards, then sank to his rear as he tripped on himself. I didn't -- I didn't -- it just happened, he wasn't making sense but like, when did he ever.