King Elk Forest a journey (a dream of flight)

Crowfeather didn’t really like how Vein appeared to sniff at him. What was he going to say? That he didn’t smell like someone who should be named for a crow’s feather? That would be rude. The scary white wolf had been far from rude in the time spent in his company.

I’m not really a fighter, he stated after Vein had spoken.

Something in him felt like the home that Vein called the strath valued the strong sort. Even this, a medic, was surely capable of battle. It would not have surprised Crowfeather to find that he had taken the lives of others fighting for his home.

It was what warriors did.

Go with him… now?

Worry etched across his dark, pointed face.

To your home? Your pack? They would hunt with me?