Heron Lake Plateau [M] the red and the black

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After encountering his friends and reaching a consensus — whatever that may be — Screech knew he couldn't just up and leave. He wouldn't burn that bridge so easily. All he wanted at this moment was to find Towhee and tell her what was up — except the more he roamed, the less and less inclined he was to seek her out. He ended up touring the border and investigating the territory; wondering about what could have been, mostly. He kept far from the hungry, sleepy, road-weary wolves that had taken up residence on the plateau whenever possible — but by the time night had fallen, he had drifted a little closer.

It felt strange to be on the outside looking in, especially when his family was right there, and being with them again had been a dream of his for so long. Dreams were corruptable — it had been too long, he had seen too much and been left behind too many times, so instead of being pleased with their sudden arrival, he was more dismayed by the sudden but inevitable betrayal that had played out. Towhee's scent dominated a segment of the plateau already, as did the scents of his family. His own markings - and Redshank's - had been fading before their arrival and now, they'd been obliterated. Screech paced through the dark and studied the markings, but found himself being led away through the reeds by a familiar scent which made his chest constrict.

He stopped when he saw the dark woman's silhouette, and crooned a sad note in her direction.