Twisted Slough Into terror, into valor

I totally meant to write Moonspear and my fingers didn't agree, I'm editing above in a second, lmfao.

Confused was right. He stared at this pale wolf and couldn't quite make out who it was; his eye said Gannet, his nose said Moonspear, and a part of him kept seeing the image of that pale girl from the mountainside as she careened for the borders — then sat there, lifeless, as he ran.

But his ears heard the stranger's voice, and it was enough to at least keep Screech from losing his mind entirely; he pushed thoughts of the Moonspear wolves out of his mind as best he could, and got a little closer just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Gannet seemed just as surprised as Screech — where had he come from? Why did he smell like those evil bitch sisters?

You joined them? He blurted emptily, coming to this conclusion at the same time as he spoke it. It was the only reason he'd carry their scent and still be left without any mutilation. But that didn't make sense — Gannet had been there that day, hadn't he? Or was that just something Screech had invented? He shook his head, incredulous (that Gannet was here, and that he supported those lunatics). I don't believe this.