Heron Lake Plateau plight of the lemon children

For most of what Screech said, Quixote was wondering if his brain had somehow been teleported into a different wolf's body.  His initial bit of disappointment had faded to be replaced by confusion.  He was kind of right here?  Hello?  He desperately wished someone else was around so he could just confirm he wasn't entirely losing it.  It was a goddamn roller coaster ride: first as if Screech had some sort of rivalry within the pack itself, then he just continued blathering on like somehow he'd willfully ignored the fact Raven wasn't the only one to get a promotion, then this weird flip-floppy almost-giving-a-damn-maybe bit at the end.

His voice had cooled, I wasn't planning on it. So uh.  How did he go about trying to point out the more major problem?  And she's 'one of,' not 'the.'  The real question was if he was going to be the embodiment of that one Bash.org quote.  Quixote's stance had slowly shifted from being pretty much casual to subtly dominant -- though his head and neck had arched back initially in confusion, it stayed raised after, his tail (not that Screech could probably see too well) was held slightly up past neutral but Quixote was still wondering if he really had to pull rank outright or if Screech'd smarten up.

Okay, there was also another question -- if he seemed to dislike pretty much everyone, why was Screech even still here?  The Blackthorns were like 80% of the pack, and seemed to share opinions with Colt (so why hadn't this kid been kicked out too?), and his words about Raven were flimsy at best (not a good way to earn points with this guy).  So... Why not find a place where he didn't hate everyone?  Then again, it wasn't like anything Screech had done made sense at all.