Heron Lake Plateau We might fall in love- or fall apart

Fresh from his rendezvous with his long lost brother, Screech was a mess. Then again, when wasn't he? Not only did he find out his brother was alive, but he had joined Moonspear. He'd been living with them! They'd probably manipulated him somehow — but Screech couldn't fathom anyone from his family joining with them, ever. It hurt to think about. It hurt deep down, so far in to his core that he couldn't even entertain the thought despite being face-to-face with the truth.

That, and he stunk to high heaven. Screech hadn't been in the territory long enough to clean himself off after his fight with the bog, so he was coated in silt, pond scum, and mud in equal measure; an odious mixture, certainly, and somthing that would've made him wilt if he'd paid any attention to his distinctively sulfuric musk. Maybe he'd gone nose-blind to it. Oh well.

He was so addled by his encounter (and skewed because of the lingering smell) that he didn't notice the aroma of prey as he criss-crossed along the path that Niamh was taking. He was on the opposite side, set (presumably) on a collision course with the herd she tracked or with her, which would only lead to further awkwardness between the two of them. Again — oh well. 

Awkwardness and pain should always be expected when considering the young Screech Redhawk.