Heron Lake Plateau Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?

He still hadn't slept, which was probably not a good thing at all, for obvious reasons, but he couldn't bring himself to do so yet.  There were still too many ways for things to go wrong bouncing around inside his head, and even if Raven seemed stable, Screech was technically still out there.  Even though the now-exile was probably too weak to come back and be much of a threat, his thoughts were clouded enough that he wasn't taking any chances.  Quixote had slowly stopped talking as time went on, but now seemed unable to sit still, taking time to pace around before settling down for a few minutes again.

Despite the maelstrom in his head, some part of him was still paying attention to the world beyond their little bubble.  He'd heard someone running over, breaking out of the small circle he was making to dive aggressively towards the break in the brush, fur bristled and a wild snarl painted across his face.  It was there only a half second before he saw who it was, and his expression faded to something more neutral.  It was Towhee.  He didn't even comprehend Niamh being there at first, as he'd tunnel-visioned on who was the first potential attacker, and finding it was Towhee, figured she'd be happy to beat up anyone else who was a danger.  He really needed some sleep.

He turned away and moved back to sit next to Raven, Towhee's here.  Though he often wore a stubborn mask around everyone other than Raven, it was gone at the moment.  He looked exhausted and likely beyond a measurable point of stress to where the world just seemed hollow.  He didn't even think to explain or say any more, and was just going to stand guard over his mate, apparently.