Haunted Wood Cicada night

satu, waving some pagan's web around crowfeather. he inwardly scolded himself for being so uncharitable, when he had not even met this supposed saint.

and yet the open way that the shadow used to speak of her gnawed at the back of his mind. she had even given him a name! 

the question caught him off-guard. "my grandfather won many battles in a land called germania. the title has been passed down through his line."

germanicus lay back upon the feathered grass of the birch-copse. "and my language is latin. common there. dead here." it was a statement of fact rather than melancholy.