Blackfeather Woods I just needed a little off the top.

there was darkness. 

then there was confusion.

and then there was pain.

so much pain.

and then there was nothing. 



every moment that lead up to this point had reached a level of spontaneity and stupidity that only tegan could reach. it was impulsive and emotionally driven and overall the worst mistake tegan would have ever made. he could've done a number of other things, like go home, for one. no one had asked him to even come here-- no one even wanted him here. this was a job for towhee, who maybe couldn't kill screech herself-- but she sure hadn't let screech kill her. 

his family would be so disappointed to hear about his death. what a dumbass, they would've said. 




and then there was light. 



he blinked. tegan blackthorn blinked his eyes open and stared at screech, who sat before him with the same expression that he'd had moments ago. tegan was sitting, his forelegs spread bracing himself and his head hanging. his vision blurred, he felt woozy, but at least his limbs were holding him up. he realized now what had happened. it had only been seconds since screech had spoke. tegan had feinted for a mere moment, and a brief episode of nightmare city had played in his head as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

he'd seen the future, seen his failures. and for the first time in tegan's life, he listened to better judgement.

dryly, his head now pounding and his throat burning as the weight of his own death caught in it, tegan said, "show me where ceara is, and we'll leave." 

motherfucker was definitely concussed. and now he needed therapy.