Phantom Hollow a slab in the morgue

This might not make sense, but he's assuming she's part of the 'Cerb.

He stared at one segment or another thinking that they moved around him, but really it was his singular eye adjusting to the depth of field. There was not much to look at in the dark - the sky was a sterling gray with variegated cloud-cover, and the skeletal forest within which he now hid himself added a smattering of incongruent blackness. He tried to focus on what was above his head, but craning his neck caused a pounding sensation to ricochet up through the vertebrae and in to the base of his skull. The migraine-like sensation had been growing steadily more intense ever since he'd dragged his sorry ass out of the heartwood. The intensity of the ex-Redhawk's vigil did not stagnate for a second despite all of this—he refused to ignore any subtle change to the wind, sound in the boughs, or shuffle of heavy snow as it fell from a perch too weak to carry it.

The darkness would not get him. The boy's entire self was in survival mode with adrenaline still cranked to its full potiential, and while his heartbeat seemed regular, it was in actuality thrumming at such a pace that he would presumably never rest again.

Yet the boy was very tired. He was beyond exhausted physically; the toil of being caught by the Cerberus and then prosecuted within the full extent of their sadism had left him in a new and frenzied state, wearing away every bit of his energy while he struggled to stay alive. When the shadow came thrusting out of the gloom he had fully expected it, been entirely manic in his attention, and yet it was unavoidable: she collided with him and like the day before, he was at the mercy of the shadow.

But the boy wasn't going to buckle now. He reacted to her presence, to her weight, with a strangled cry similar to the manner in which he'd protested against his punishment. A hoarse snarl pulled from his depths and he whipped his face towards the nearest part of the darkness—and he reacted with a defensive volley of snaps at any part of the raven's head that he could see.

Of course, due to current circumstances, it was more than likely he would fail with every attempt. But Screech would not go down without a fight - not now, not ever again - and she was only one, separated from her precious trio of marauders.