Heron Lake Plateau Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?

The change in subject brought him back to reality.  Sort of.  He finished cleaning the spot on Raven's neck and turned his pointed gaze back to Towhee and Niamh, as if daring them to think ill of Raven for what she was going to say.  Towhee responded in a way he deemed appropriate, at least.  Good.  So maybe there wouldn't be any more trouble.

If anyone went hunting Screech down, Quixote figured he had an automatic invite -- after all, he was her mate and the father of her children, and he was pretty pissed off about the whole thing, even if he was too burnt out to show it. But I can't-- 'go,' 'leave her,' something like that filled the end of the sentence.  Quixote looked back to Raven, conflicted, though not nearly as visibly so as he had been overnight.  If any wolf other than her deserved to dole out some vengeance, wouldn't it be him?  Not that he was exactly in the best state to do so now, even if he was willing to leave his mate's side.  She was hurt, the pups weren't far away.  Had he given away his chance entirely?  He searched Raven's face for confirmation that him staying was right.  His mind was too clouded to give Towhee any real yes/no to her sort-of request.