Heron Lake Plateau Never mind the slacks and bashers

Niamh had to think back, to try and remember what it was she'd told Quixote. It likely would have been fairly close to the truth, but she couldn't seem to recall, exactly, what she'd said. He criticized Screech for having headbutted her, and she flushed. That wasn't exactly the truth- so obviously, some of the details were missing. Niamh was a very honest wolf- often honest to a fault- but this time, she couldn't make herself confess that she had been the one aiming to headbutt him in the first place. She couldn't admit it- not if he ended up dying. That would make her a murderer- or, in the very least, simply responsible for his death whether she'd intended it or not. 

"I dunno." She replied, shrugging. Yeh, she'd learned her lesson, and Quixote had shamed her lightly, without knowing he was doing so. Headbutting was best left to animals who had the skulls built for the job. Wolves, obviously, did not possess a thick enough skull for that...Or, maybe she did- but Screech didn't, which was hard to imagine. 

He ended up siding with her, though, which was appreciated and made her feel a bit better. "I was tracking those elk." She said. "I'd caught their scent a couple days earlier, and had been following them- some of the females are gonna give birth soon, so I wanted to see where they might stop to pop." She said. "And that idiot... He just had to intervene and get us both chased away by the bull." She said. "I can't believe what a...Just what a freaking...Numbskull that dude is sometimes."