Heron Lake Plateau It was too cold to cry when I woke up alone,

Little did Screech know, Ceara was both a Blackthorn and an idiot kid.

She did not notice him even as she crossed his path on patrol.  His scent was one of many that mingled in and out of the borders with frequency, and it was not irregular that she even caught a fresh whiff.  He only grabbed her attention when he called out to her —

"uh -- hey!"

— and time seemed to slow as she was pulled from her thoughts.  He sounded like he was miles away, or underwater.  Instead, she found her packmate across the gentle swaying reeds, and she sped up to close some of the distance between them without thinking about it too much.  She really couldn't get a good look at him from here, but from what she could tell he was swathed in a palatable shade of gray.

Oh, um, hey! she called back dumbly, What's up?  She slowed down as she got close enough to inspect him fully — if his scars took her by surprise, she did not let on.