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

Niamh's blood ran cold when Raven eyed her levelly and told her the truth. It took her a few moments to even register the other words she spoke, and Raven had already called out for Quixote before all the words fell into place. Screech could die- and Raven was getting Quixote to help them carry him to his den. She was concussed too, but clearly not as badly, which she just couldn't understand. She'd thought that she'd taken the brunt of the damage- but somehow, Screech was the one who was critically injured, and by her head hand. 

"My den." She blurted. "My den. He goes to my den. It's soft. It's my job, to watch him; he goes to my den." She said, steely determination in her voice as she stared down at Screech's prone body. She was still overwhelmed, and in mild shock from what Raven had said. She stayed where she was, mutely staring down at Screech, the ache in her head completely forgotten now that something else had begun to hurt terribly.