Grouse Thicket The promise of the world

Birds chirped from the branches overhead. A dark shadow passed beneath them, head hung low, eyes glancing despondently around him.

Crowfeather had wanted to leave the area where he had run into so many members of Vein’s pack. He had wanted to flee immediately and never glance back. The meeting he had shared with the savage duo still clung to his mind, fed on his thoughts.

Perhaps the reason young Crowfeather had not scurried away into the dark of the forests was that he was angry.

The dark seer wanted more than anything to find Vein and tell him just how wrong he had been. His pack members had not been friendly, they had not been the sort that Crowfeather would expect to hunt alongside him.

He sighed and turned his head at the scent of pheasant.