Altar of Twilight A shooting star

At the trees, Crowfeather slowed to a trot and then turned to where Germanicus had arrived next. The dark figure’s lungs ached with the race they had made, but he tried to match the panting art that the silver guardian demonstrated… without much luck.

Are you hungry, Germanicus? Crowfeather inquired between breaths. Is there something here for me to learn from you?

Perhaps the boy did speak the guardian’s name too often. It had become a habit over only a few days. Crowfeather rather enjoyed the taste of the man’s moniker upon his lips. A secret he held close to his heart.