Heron Lake Plateau Let's give this bad boy a test run.

After a certain point, Quixote had just followed along and turned off his brain.  He had brought up the rear of the line much of the time, mostly just so he could stay away from Towhee.  He hadn't lost his precious antler, though he almost had during one of the times they stopped.  Now the group stopped, dispersed over a smallish area.  The trek had been long, but he'd done okay over the distance.  He had sore paws, but eh.  That wasn't too bad.  Quixote hadn't noticed the strange scents, or if he had, his conscious mind hadn't thought anything about them.  He dug a small hole, buried his prize, and flopped on top of it.  He was curling up into a ball to sleep and try to forget it all.  And then Towhee called for him.

A mournful groan came from him as he unfurled himself and got back to his feet.  Unlike Colt, Quixote actually followed instructions, trotting over after her.  That was just about when Titmouse and company appeared.  Qui, on the other hand, didn't really remember him at all, and figured these were just some troublemakers from somewhere nearby.  He and Titmouse had only crossed paths at the meeting or whatever, if that.  He growled briefly, bristling as he moved to take his place along with the group that met up.

However, whatever dust-up seemed almost ready to go down seemed to have tripped over its own shoelaces.  There was familiarity between that guy and Towhee and one of the youths at least.  So maybe they weren't going to have some big problem.. Yet.  Or were they?  The tawny woman who appeared most recently seemed to be the most on edge of that group.  Quixote chose to stare her down, ears forward, watching her to see what she did.  Though his fur was slightly bristled, he was waiting to see if she was going to do anything more than be threatening.  He hadn't even considered that maybe they were here first -- his brain hadn't made the connection yet.  All he knew was there were some fools here and he trusted that one the least.