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

Niamh hadn’t exactly been prepared for this- and foolishly, her first thought was that she was glad she’d buried the partridge rather than bringing it with her- these punks probably would’ve tried to take that from her, too. One of the wolves- a robust, dark fellow with brilliant eyes, stared her down, and she eyed him with one brow raised. She sniffed; his intimidation tactic of staring her down wasn’t going to ruffle her feathers. She flicked her tail dismissively and ignored him; but couldn’t help the tug of a faintly amused smile at the corners of her lips. Out of the three of them, he’d chosen to try and intimidate her- she was flattered. 

One of the wolves spoke up, and she tilted her head to the side a bit as soon as she began speaking. There was something guttural and strange about the way she spoke. She looked to Screech, who didn’t seem too surprised, and who seemed to know her. The dark wolf called Screech “Tit,” or something like that, but she didn’t care. This female was demanding that they either leave or join the group of them- and threatened them with death if they didn’t leave. The female and Screech both had reddish markings behind their front lega, on their ribcages- Niamh began to assume they were related.

Niamh had to hold her breath to keep herself from laughing. Seriously? A death penalty for defending their turf? That was ridiculous- Niamh couldn’t even begin to fathom it. Who killed someone else just over turf? Morally, it was horribly wrkng- so she cast her gaze about the group to see if any of her followers expressed any remorse or surprise that that was the order given. Foolishness, Niamh thought. Absolute foolishness- and probably a bluff.

It was all too surreal for her, and Screech didn’t seem to be afraid either, so she stood right where she was, her lips peeling back slightly as his did. She hardly believed that these wolves- supposedly from some Caldera, would join them. But why couldn’t they just move along?

The male who’d been eyeing her early stepped forward, and for some reason, Niamh was drawn to step just one foot forward as well- defensively. He had her attention now. There was definitely something about him that she liked better than the female who seemed to lead the group- and he seemed to feel the same way about how ridiculous it was to kill over turf- or at least, so she interpreted. He didn’t exactly try to dissuade his leader, but he was diffusing the situation slightly. When he questioned her allegiance to Screech, she straightened up, chin lifting slightly and finally, she gave him the hard stare he’d been giving her earlier. This was their turf. She didn’t want to die for it- but she certainly didn’t want these vagabonds to take it just because they were greater in number. If anything, that gave her motivation to find others to join with her, Screech and Redshank and then come back and whoop their asses into next week. 

One wolf suggested that they move on, and she eyed him for a moment, before giving a soft, almost appreciative nod. Her eyes scanned the others, to see if they would agree. She had no idea, still, that Towhee was deaf- but she found her eyes drifting back to Quixote again; her gaze lacked the coldness she’d given him earlier, and instead she sinply looked firm but calm. She was still quite certain no wolf killed another for turf.