Heron Lake Plateau I'm burger meat and purple pills.

That night, he didn't sleep.

His emotions ran the gamut between feeling good (because on a basic level he couldn't stop the feeling), feeling guilty, and feeling nothing. There was no way for him to account for Raven's feelings; every thought of her made him think of the sensation of their coupling, and that in turn made his guts want to vacate his body. He ran, physically, until he was at the lakeside, at which point he thrust himself in to the water and let himself soak in the inky blackness of it — awash with stars, it would've been beautiful if not for the rest of his evening's escapades.

Then, Screech dashed from the shallows and on to dry land, where he vomited the contents of his twisting belly.

By morning, he was red-eyed and haggard. He loitered upon the northern edge of the territory where the Redhawk scent was the weakest, and looked to the north — the sky was cloudy, and the sunlight caused the thicker sections of cloud to blush with faint colors as the sun rose. He considered leaving then and there. 

Maybe he'd leave all of this behind. He was well on his way to screwing it all up again. But -- this was his last chance. If he left now, there was no way they'd ever see him as anything but a nuisance. The boy knew he had to put the previous night's events out of his mind if he wanted to survive; he sighed as he finally collapsed in to the grass, and was drifting in to an uneasy half-sleep within moments.

*hand waves*

Colt had heard that Screech had chosen to stick around, a move that surprised him.  Last time he'd met the kid, he'd been so gung ho about leaving all of this behind and striking out.  Then again, last time they'd met, he'd also had two good eyes and a much prettier face.  Life had kicked him hard in the teeth and maybe it wasn't such a shock for him to want some downtime in a pack for a while.  Maybe the bigger surprise was that Towhee had asked him back.

Colt still wasn't sure where he stood with Towhee, but he'd aired his thoughts to Elwood, and at least that was nice.  The outcome either was or wasn't what he wanted (because we don't know at this point, oops) but all he could do was let them know where he stood.  He had never been too shy about making his opinions known, generally because he was an intelligent wolf who had pretty damn good opinions.

On Screech he had few; he had spoken with him and didn't dislike him, and he tended to discount the baggage other wolves talked about (he knew jack shit about the Moonspear deal, and most things involving Screech, actually).  So when he saw him standing on the borders, eager to git his mind off of other things, he greeted him with a friendly enough enthusiasm.  "Hey!  Long time no see, well, aside from the other day."  He approached, coming in to perhaps converse a bit.  He was curious as to what all had happened while he was out making his way.

He startled awake when he heard the crunching of the grass, and groggily peered about until, from the blackness of his poor side came the figure of Colt. The other wolf was moving too fast for the weary boy. His voice was too loud. Screech felt his body tense as he pushed himself up to a half-laying-half-sitting position - and idly thought, shit, does he know?

Did he smell like her still? (No, at most he smelled like the fowl-scented grass and pond scum.)

Y-yeah, right, the whole.. Confrontation thing. He still had a nice cut to the bridge of his nose from where Colt had struck him. You want something? I was just -- y'know, sleeping. Like a normal person doing normal things, not a panicked kid who was always in over his head.

He hadn't meant to bother him while sleeping, but he hadn't noticed till he already called.  Well, no use wasting it.  "Actually, wanted to say sorry about the other day."  He gave a vague gesture to his face.  "Make sure there were no hard feelings."

Since they were going to be packmates, he figured the gesture was a good one, though he wondered if the other would take it the wrong way.

Screech knew that things had been dicey during that confrontation, but he also knew that the reactions of his friends had been in defense of himself - so the actions of Colt had been in defense of the Redhawks, and the boy couldn't hold that against him. He had been trying to protect Raven -- Fuck, he caught himself thinking of her and couldn't stop the curse from flowing out of him. It felt like a kick to the gut, just being reminded of his sister. Recovering as quickly as he could, Screech threw together some words and hoped they made sense: I mean, yeah man. I get it. Er, right.

If that was all Colt wanted, then what was he still doing here? Feeling a bit unnerved (and a lot guilty) he went on to express some idle thoughts, I was surprised to see all of you here. What uh.. What happened? With Blackfeather, I mean. Did they kick ass and take names? Maybe it wasn't the best thing to bring up since Screech had bailed right before that whole thing, but he couldn't think of anything else to say, and he was curious.

Colt was confused when Screech randomly cursed, not sensing it was directed at him (because it didn't really apply to what he'd said) but not sure what it referred to.  He was quick to clarify, though, and to Colt's satisfaction seemed ok with what went down.  He'd had no choice, but if he'd had his way, they woulda simply kept looking.

Screech went on, and Colt let out a derisive tcht.  "We kicked ass and took names.  Sent them running, but let them get away.  Apparently they thought that was an open invite to come back."  Colt had never really confirmed it was the same wolves the second time around, but it seemed too much a coincidence to chance.  "Better to move then fight again."

Colt studied Screech a minute.  He seemed... jumpy? Off enough that he felt he should ask "Are you ok?"

It didn't make sense that it was the Redhawks that won, but got displaced. Even if the former woodland pack returned to their former territory there was nothing to indicate they'd be stronger because of it - this news took him by surprise, and he openly gawked at Colt, up until he asked after his wellbeing. He snorted at that and tried to brush it off because -- well -- fuck no, he wasn't in a good headspace, but he really couldn't get in to that right now.

Well lets see, he murmured, following the introductory comment with a shrill little laugh (kind of like his namesake might sound like - er, the bird,) I broke my leg, got chased away from my home, threatened with death, lost an eye, got kicked out of my next pack after twenty-four hours because my best friend didn't like the leader, tried to set up shop myself somewhere far from my problems - here he finally took a breath, and plastered on a dopey little smile, like he'd been smuck on the head. 

And of course, you guys show up. I mean I was happy to see you for all of two seconds. That wasn't entirely true, but Screech was exhausted and rambling and kind of just going with whatever came out of his mouth. Only to find out you want what I have—and the next thing I know, we're here. I'm in a pack but it isn't mine, with a family that thinks I'm either touched, or at the very least just a step above scum.

He was quiet for a moment (probably to breathe) and then pointed out: How do you think I'm doing?

Colt weathered Screech's tirade gamely, mostly because he one hundred percent agreed and he was honestly surprised how well Screech was taking this.  Imagining himself at that age, he woulda beat the shit out of his sister if this had happened; or had her beat the shit out of him.  Not that they would be in this situation because he held more respect for his family, it seems.  But still.

"That's a lot of shitty breaks," he agreed, tone musing.  "You sure you didn't piss off a witch and get yourself a curse?"  He'd been meaning to ask what happened to have him show up so rough, but now he didn't have to.  "For what it's worth, personally I think we shoulda left you to it.  Unfortunately no one seemed to care about my opinion."  And the one who woulda made the call definitely didn't hear it.  So there's that.

"Guess striking out didn't go so well for you.  But least you made a couple good friends?"  He'd had some at least willing to follow his lead and that wasn't a small feat.