Lion Head Mesa All that I do is a shadow of you

Crowfeather dreamed of an eagle flying through red stone canyons, its cry pierced the air. The shadow raced beneath it, bouncing between red rocks effortlessly. It was breathtakingly beautiful and cold. He could remember the sun rising along the mountain, breaking through the grey clouds with a shimmering glow of warm light.

The shadow’s eyes fluttered open, and he searched immediately for Germanicus. The dark wolf’s breathing arrived in short gasps until he had settled his racing heart.

The soldier is gone, he reminded himself. The absence of the older man could be felt in the room, in the way that Crowfeather lifted his torso up and peered through the hallways. He ached with how much he missed the man’s yellow gaze, the way he spoke, his kindness. The caverns of Akashingo were so foreign to the seer that he felt more like a prisoner than a guest.

With a grunt, the dark wolf sat up and blinked away the sleep from his eyes.