The Sunspire I should be wiser.

When Rannoch turned the entire thing back on him, Screech dissented with a huff. He almost didn't respond, but his eye narrowed and then he looked at the dirt for a second. I'm just pissed off. He was always pissed off though — he'd been pissed when he'd been chased away from the valley, pissed when he'd lost his chance to be helpful in the war, pissed that he'd broken his leg, pissed to see Towhee's face, pissed to be in the Vale. Anger was all he knew, apparently. Everything was reduced to an embrous rage that he stoked with every piece of himself.

Rannoch had a point though, succinct though his words had been. Screech continued, All I know is that I'm nothing here. You're supposed to be my family and you put me on the bottom because I didn't make nice with your darkie friend, it was the first time he'd referred to Terance as such out loud, and the vehemence in his voice was unmistakable. I was so excited to hear your howls — but it didn't really matter now. This had nothing to do with the events at the border, Screech was just a sore loser and couldn't let anything go. It had only been twenty-four hours and he'd already ruined another potential home.

He suddenly jumped to another conclusion: Liffey said... She said you're targets of Moonspear because you left them. How do you know you can trust your own pack, then? They're all from Moonspear, they could still be loyal, he was thinking aloud more than anything now, and finally landed upon one fact, They will always want me dead too. I should just leave, that way you can go on your merry way with your new family — deep down Screech just didn't feel safe but he didn't know how to explain that any better than he already was.

Moonspear was the enemy and Rannoch had built his pack out of their leftovers; did he not see the dangers of that?