Heron Lake Plateau your shadow weighs a ton

Raven had been on her way to check on Screech -- as had been her daily routine since he'd initially been concussed -- when the sound of raised voices reached her ears some distance from Niamh's den. The two voices were unmistakeable: Niamh and Ceara were going at it again. She lingered for a time and listened, the line of sight to her dark form broken by a low cluster of bushes and saplings, until Ceara turned and walked off.

It was then that she walked the rest of the way to Niamh's den. She could not shake the overarching sense of gratitude she felt toward the honey-colored gamma for the care and attention she'd given to Screech, but she was aggravated that the tensions were continuing to persist. Niamh's protectiveness over Screech didn't make much sense, but beyond that, there was no reason for her aggression toward Ceara -- who only wished to help.

She approached the pair of them, who were huddled together on the ground, and her voice -- as always -- was soft, but there was the barest hint of an authoritative edge in its tone as well. "This has become a problem," she said to Niamh. "I think it's time Screech was moved someplace less...contentious than this."