Bramblepoint Rose petals

germanicus was surprised. it showed in the curious tilt of one aud toward crowfeather. but the eagle had heard correctly. he faced rigidly ahead, gait continuing on smoothly. the raise in the shadow's voice had evoked a quickness to his own heartbeat. the attempt not to focus upon the sensation was quietly monumental.

inwardly, he shied away. children were well enough, and had inspired adoring in germanicus before. but they had been the offspring of nobility, of his sisters, of his cousins. or the young ones of the workmen who toiled long hours by the river. 

not his own. there it soured. 

germanicus realized too long he had been silent. the man cleared his throat. "i like them. the opportunity to have my — own; it has not presented itself." and yet this was a lie, the first he had told crowfeather.

a golden weasel ran across their path.