Lost Creek Hollow meus

it was midafternoon when at last germanicus returned to the cool shadows of riverclan. it seemed his son was here, faint at the borders.

he did not know what to think when he considered that aquillius and @Crowfeather might have met one another.

germanicus considered the hidden bundle in the valley of his failure and found peace in it as he searched for the shadow sorely missed.

love, a burning oil-lamp upon his spirit as he felt his tongue heavy with a thousand words.

Crowfeather had haunted the edges of Riverclan, eager to see when the silver eagle would fly home again. He had not eaten much in the ranger’s time away. His body had grown lean and sharp. His eyes were creased with worry. 

The things that Silvertongue had said… 

When he saw the somber yellow of Germanicus gaze, he thought he had been conjured out of longing. Crowfeather halted in his tracks. His heart bounced into his throat, beating so fiercely that it could have choked the life from him. 

Swift as a hare, Crowfeather rushed toward Germanicus. His nose found the man’s chest and he buried himself there, tears springing to his eyes.

tears — the stinging bite of them in his own gaze as the shadow unfolded and refurled in his arms.

breath let out to wander through the jetstone hairs of the nape he had wished to kiss a thousand times.

his arm came up softly at first, and then firmly; he sought to offer the solidity of his body and be assured by that which crowfeather offered; "i thought of you each day," into the curve of the delicate fluttering ear.

The strength of the older man’s arm pulled Crowfeather close. The shadow melted into him, arms reaching to wrap Germanicus in them, to keep him pressed tight to the dark star forever. 

His voice sucked the air from the back of Crowfeather’s throat. Eyes stinging with tears were closed tight. The lump in his throat threatened to spill from his lips in the form of shoulder-heaving sobs. 

Why was this so difficult? If he always returned, it would not matter where he wandered. But Crowfeather could not curb the aching that consumed him when Germanicus was gone. He could not temper the longing to be close. 

If you go for that long again… please take me with you.

suppose it had been crowfeather who heard that ugly and brief tale of abject cruelty, rather than wren and akavir?

their hatred was warranted. had they connived to kill him in the mountains, the eagle did not believe he would have raised a hand to stop them.

still, he cradled the shadow with a soft sound budding in his throat; desperation, want.

some semblance of refusal, for in his cold light he saw how he might never speak of this again, might never rouse the shame of the proud woman who had borne crowfeather's children.

why should he sunder them all and then consider his departure?

"not to that place of all places," germanicus murmured firmly against the image of sin reaching once more to snare the star, sin he had written long ago.

The quick beat of his heart was pressed to Germanicus. His one hind leg pushed against the earth, pressing him closer. It was desperation in raw form. The burning of want that spread through his wooden figure like wildfire. 

Any place. 

A kiss was offered to the man’s jaw. Another beneath his eye. Crowfeather pressed close to the eagle. 

I only want to be with you. 

The stars had crafted Crowfeather to fill the dark space at Germanicus’ side. A shadow, tethered entirely to its body.

how could crowfeather cleave to him so when he did not understand the sum of who germanicus was?

to tell his sordid truths would destroy the shadow. to disappear would kill the blackstar's spirit.

why should anything be said? let things unsaid remain so.

the kisses returned, in heat and wordless. he could make no promises.

but he could allow the hunger of his touch-starving body speak for itself, twining them together in the shadows of riverclan.

Crowfeather had never known what it was like to feel destroyed. Not until Germanicus had left him in Akashingo and had created a life, had a family for himself. The dark star's desperate trip to Mereo had been his last effort. Even when it had not gone his way, he carried the weight of his feelings. Even when he knew that Germanicus would not love him that way, Crowfeather was overwhelmed with his longing.

To have these moments in Riverclan was like a dream. The very touch of him returned life to the shadow's features, his eyes, his voice. Beneath the blissful feelings that bubbled to the surface, Crowfeather felt relief. It was a release of fear and tension whenever the silver eagle returned to Riverclan. But he could not help himself from wondering if there would come another day when the man he loved would never return.

As he breathed in Germanicus, they came together as one. And for a moment in time, Crowfeather felt whole again.