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

There was really way too much going on for Fiadh to split her attention evenly, so she focused on the primary source of conflict: Towhee and Titmouse. Admittedly, the young Blackthorn didn't remember Screech at all from the Caldera. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but with his missing eye, he just looked like some kind of gnarly bad guy out to contest them. This set a fire in the girl's breast; she'd been denied an opportunity to fight for her family and pack before, but look! Now one was staring her in the face and she was raring to go.

"Yeah!" she agreed readily with Clover, shooting Colt a somewhat narrow glance over her shoulder. "Don't be such a coward, uncle Colt! We can take them!" After all, there were only three wolves. Ignoring skill, age, experience and size—because honestly, statistics, who cared about that?—Fiadh felt certain that she, Clover and Lucca could take them out themselves.

Which they would. Of course. They fought side-by-side. So when Clover gave her war cry and leaped forward, Fiadh bared her teeth, shouted, "we're gonna kick your asses, dickwads! No one fucks with us!" and sprang right after her sister for the very same wolf. Out of necessity, she was on Screech's bad side, but that wasn't a conscious decision. Clover had taken the other so it only made sense for them to gang up by going opposite ways. She lunged for Screech's face, indicating just how poor a fighter she actually was with her choice of target.

Who goes for the face? The face can defend itself, you idiot, go for the legs.