Altar of Twilight A shooting star

The dark shadow prowled after Germanicus. The nose of the hunter was scouring the dirt and leaves beneath paw. The fragrance of the boar was much stronger as they carved their path in. 

At the mention of a scar, the dark features lifted.

Crowfeather blinked at Germanicus with wonder. He had never known a scar from a true battle. He had many from his childhood. Others from things he would rather forget. 

This scar carried the premise of honor with it. 

You think so? he voiced quietly, but did not expect a reply.