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

The pups.  His attention shifted away from Niamh and Towhee, and locked onto Raven. Quixote's face fell, and his move to lay next to Raven was without grace, sort of a mildly-controlled crumple since he didn't currently have the mental wherewithal to finesse it more than that.  It wasn't news to him but he wanted to be as close to her as he could, as if it would fix things.  

Though normally a private wolf, right now he was past the point of caring what anyone thought about the possibly unexpected degree of tenderness with which he treated her.   He kissed Raven's cheek and carefully started cleaning where the blood had ran through her neck fur on his side.  He was here for her, even if the attack had broken them both in different ways.  Doing this was probably one of the few things that kept him from just utterly losing it.  All he could do was prove he was here, that he was sorry he hadn't prevented it, that somehow things would be okay.

Quixote didn't know where Screech was, so he didn't even distract himself from his work.  He had made his choice and was standing by it, even now.