Haunted Wood Cicada night

Germanicus demonstrated his speed in a movement that left Crowfeather’s skull and ears ringing. The dark wolf winced, stepping back. He shook his head softly, hoping to release the jitters that had started like fireworks in his legs.

Instruction to strike him higher fell on Crowfeather’s ears. He did not wish to argue with the older man. There would be no point if he did not at least attempt what the other asked.

My neck, he whispered in concern, fearfully recalling countless times that he had been gripped by the throat and choked. The warriors in training had been cruel to the only failure and they were unashamed to have shown it.

Crowfeather gritted his teeth and prowled again.

This time, his teeth aimed for Germanicus’ cheek. A snap of ivory fang and within a second of being too late, Crowfeather switched his target for the man’s already injured leg.