Heron Lake Plateau And ain't it always the way

Niamh spotted Tegan making his way toward the stream and her tail waved at the sight of him. She hadn't seen him much since he'd returned- though she knew he was being taken care of. Apparently Rory had become his guardian as he recovered from his concussion and she knew well enough to leave the two alone. She remembered how she'd felt about having visitors while Screech had been in her care, but she also privately hoped that something might blossom between Rory and Tegan in their alone time together- and she wasn't going to get in the middle of that. As she'd promised, Niamh had kept her lips tightly sealed on that matter- what Rory had confessed to her would stay with her. 

He didn't seem to notice her until he was right there, though, which was a bit odd- especially for a scout. Considering his condition, though, she understood. She was happy to see him out and about, and he looked pretty much the same as he always did, though he did seem a bit hesitant, and didn't greet her as enthusiastically as she'd expected him to. Then again, what reasons had she given him to be excited to see her? She hadn't put much faith in his abilities...And she still wasn't sure where she stood, after he'd run off to Blackfeather to try and find Ceara. Business and pack roles aside, though, he was a sight for sore eyes. 

His tone was fairly casual, but Niamh- in her mild paranoia and self-doubt, inferred something else, and her ears turned back. Maybe he was the wolf she was supposed to talk to- she wasn't sure. Quixote wanted her to talk to someone, but she assumed by that, he meant to go and talk to Raven. She wasn't convinced- Raven would automatically be on his side, and she wanted more wolves in her corner. She nodded and grimaced slightly. "Not great, Tegan," She answered honestly. "Had a weird....Sleep last night, and just..." She said, trailing off, and shook her head. She missed Colt, and she didn't feel at home with Quixote at the helm. She looked over at Tegan, her gaze soft. "How've you been?" She asked gently. She knew earnesty wasn't generally used in their conversations- less so on his part than on hers, but she didn't feel like using cool lingo or acting as though everything was fine- because it wasn't. And if she could admit it, she hoped he would at least tell her how he was really feeling, post-concussion. It concerned her greatly- as one concussion had pretty much altered the course of their pack permanently.