Heron Lake Plateau how many people have to pretend to die.

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Though Niamh had been with the pack for the better part of a year now- minus a few months but she wasn’t really counting- there was still an area of the pack that she generally avoided, and that was anywhere within sight of Finley’s den. Her first encounter with the harpy-like Blackthorn matriarch had more or less set the tone for their relationship and had defined Niamh’s view of Blackthorn females. Over time, of course, that had changed with each interaction as it naturally would, so long as Niamh continued to mature...But it was slow going, really. Ceara had been gone for months now, as had Fiadh, and Niamh’s relationship with both Clover and Finley seemed to have gone from reluctant acceptance to something perhaps a bit more fond than indifference. Feeling that the ice was still incredibly thin, though- especially since she’d married Finley’s brother- she did her best to behave and leave the Blackthorn women to themselves.

When she heard Finley shouting, though, she couldn’t help but draw a bit closer to the area she usually avoided, and though she wasn’t able to make out Finley’s words, she could see that something about the tree was making her quite angry. Without any leaves, the tree did a poor job of hiding the target of Finley’s accusations, and Niamh bristled as soon as she saw, vaguely through the skeletal branches, who Finley was shouting at.

It was X.

At least, it looked like X. Niamh was still a good distance away, she’d missed the gist of Finley’s threats, and all birds looked more or less the same to Niamh (sorry, X), especially ones that were predators….So all she could think, immediately was how dare her crone-of-a-sister-in-law yell at X?! Had she been closer, she might’ve noticed the different colour of its tailfeathers and beak which would have defined its species- but Niamh was too quick to jump to conclusions and as Towhee was her Person, and X was her Person’s bird, she set herself up for sure failure by barking to catch Finley’s attention.

Finley was a respected wolf in the pack. Heck, she’d had something to do with the founding of it- and had been alpha at one point, back in the dinosaur age, or so thought Niamh. So she didn’t pull rank, but she was pretty ruffled as she approached Finley, tail swaying behind her at a neutral position but she couldn’t keep the look of judgemental concern off her face. ”Why’re you yelling at him?” She asked, her tone conveying the accusation that she thought Finley was actually yelling at a treasured feathered sort-of member of the pack, and how insulted she felt that Finley would do such a thing. She’d picked up a trot to close in the distance, but had kept her skeptical gaze on or close to Finley, in case she decided to go ballistic on her, too. In Niamh’s opinion, X could do no wrong. So what the heck gave Finley the right to yell at him?

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