Lake Rodney vinitor

"and what fate is that, crowfeather?" the boy was young. but tragedy chose even the youth to befall. germanicus looked at the bedraggled nape, at the not-quite-lupine set of limbs and features and flanks, and thought it must be something impure that plagued his ward.

not his ward.

not his companion.

were they bound by more than this? and how had it come again to germanicus?

they must sleep now, for tomorrow he planned to send crowfeather off alone. or he had held this thought, until the very moment they now shared. germanicus wished to trace the hurt sides of this fissure. but desire did not an eagle make.