Bramblepoint Rose petals

germanicus was pulling a vole toward himself, but it was too late. crowfeather was already speaking with his usual concern, attention to the ranger's details. "it was very deep. i think i only wake more slowly this morning."

he took the young hunter's report with a relieved interest. the prey was skinned and segmented, half-devoured in quick swallows. "redhawk caldera. brecheliant. akashingo." a sound of amusement. "in just over a week's time, we will have made a map of this entire region and its inhabitants."

distracted by dreamlessness, and by the way that crowfeather's first word to him often sent the blood to hum, just beneath his surface.