Golden Glade One summer day

God?

Oh no…

Crowfeather’s large ears fell to his head at once. The dark shape looked uncertainly, this way and that, in search of the figure who had spoken to him – who had mistaken him for a God.

Fearful and quaking, the runaway felt himself start to become sick. Anxiety tossed inside his belly like a wave on the sea and he feared he could not weather it.

N…no Gods here, a shaking reply.

Of course, there are no Gods here, you foolish little boy.

Crowfeather could hear his father’s voice like a clear bell, sharp and painful.