Phantom Hollow Thought of all of the people

It wasn't so hard to find places to hide in this forest. Screech could appreciate the quiet of it all, even if the occasional breeze through the naked trees caused a weird sort of groan. It was a hollow sound; sort of eerie, sort of annoying, but easy to get used to. He'd spent a good few hours trying to relax enough to sleep, but there was no way that would happen. He hadn't managed a minute of shut-eye since he'd come-to in the Heartwood - and he looked it.

Having not cleaned his face in the slightest, Screech had a nice patch of brownish-red fur plastered across the ruined skin of his cheek. The wounds from the sisters' teeth continued to seep in to the snow, leaving small trails in some places, melting through in others. Although he didn't move much once he'd found his haven, there were a few red-streaked paths within the hollow that almost worked like border markings.

It was a gross thought - but it reminded him of Blackfeather, further spoiling what little appetite he carried.

Screech had managed to work up the energy to try one last patrol of the area (to make sure he hadn't been followed), and that's when it struck him: the odious signature of Moonspear. He stopped in his tracks and felt his stomach lurch; the world swayed around him, and then he dropped low against the frosted soil and dry-heaved his stress away.

As he got back up he heard the snapping of some twigs - and that made him whip his attention around so fast, he could've lost his other eye in the process. The stranger murmured something just beyond a copse of narrow trees, and he spied upon her with his cyclopian vision, ready to flee the scene if she got too close.