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

All things considered, Finley hadn't been nearly as hard on Colt for his relationship with Niamh as she could've been. I mean, they were hella old, and she was not at all. She had children that were older than Niamh for god's sakes. But, Fin had decided to take the more mature stance on the subject and just be glad that her jackass of a brother had found someone to put up with him for the rest of his potentially short life. 

So, when Niamh showed up, Finley didn't feel the need to regard her in any careful or attentive manner that a tense interpersonal relationship may otherwise have dictated, and thus she missed the whole offended look on the younger girl's face. "Oh, hey Legs," Fin greeted after a brief glance at her out of the corner of her eye, "I'm yelling because this bird is being an asshole. It stole my kill and now it's just up there taunting me with it like a bitch." She narrowed her eyes again, but the hawk just munched away. Apparently it didn't mind being called names.

She turned to Niamh then, a new thought occuring. "Hey, you got a pinecone or a stick or something I can throw at it?" she asked, still completely missing her companion's (rather obvious) annoyance.