Phoenix Maplewood paganus

her eyes opened, leveled upon germanicus. his own took in the silvergold dance of her robes, the bronzed headpiece, her delicate build. a young priestess to an idol for which he knew not the name. a heathen god, for certain. there was but one set of celestial rulers, but not a wolf here knew them.

"meadow, when is the last you took water?" the soldier inquired gruffly, the manner of a military medic leaning over a fallen fighter. she did not seem worse for wear, only fatigued; shade and a drink would mend her, he believed, motioning that she should stand if able and he would escort her to the base of an old tree.