Golden Glade robotic vacuums are obnoxious

It came as a surprise to Niamh when she heard someone hurrying to catch up with her- and her ire wasn't exactly mellowed any when she saw the form of her mate hurrying to hunt her down. Her tail flicked, the way a cat's will when it sits on a window ledge, watching birds flutter by; a show of how irked she was, and that she wasn't willing to waste much time with a conversation even if it was with her mate. Given the fact the pack had mostly been stuck together in the Glade, without borders to patrol, per say, she'd held her tongue thus far and hadn't really reamed any of the Firebirds, in particular, out over Alyx's disappearance. But it was a screech-fest that was bound to happen one day or another. 

He informed her that he intended to take Quetzal and Primrose and head for the Copse- and she nodded. She did everything in her power to keep herself from snapping at him; she thought she'd made herself clear enough when she'd howled. She also wanted to question where the fuck the kids were, and who was watching them- and were they actually watching them this time...Because the last time her children had been left in the care of other packmates, one of them had gone missing. She fumed silently as he attempted to empathize with her, but it had the opposite effect. Yes, she was exhausted- she'd made the trip from the Copse to the Glade- and then back to the Copse, and then back to the Glade again with everyone in tow- and was now searching daily for her lost daughter. And she was well aware of how exhausted she was without someone telling her as much. Unimpressed, she seethed. 

"Fine. Go."