Bramblepoint Rose petals

germanicus had put himself into a low depression beneath a fallen tree. it would protect him from the thick heat of the day, though the well-laced branches were a first guardianship. 

this time the ranger did not dream. it was as if willing his own sleep to come had cut him off from the vivid chaos of that world. 

it was the crickets that woke him. their orchestra announced the presence of another. germanicus came awake, slipping from his proverbial bedroll to approach his companion.

success, once more. "diana blesses you." did the wild animals simply give themselves to crowfeather?

"there is very little pain in my wound. it heals." he indicated the healthful scabbing that crossed the length of his foreleg.