Fairspell Meadow Something tells me

germanicus wanted now to tell crowfeather had had mistook everything, to be cruel once in a bid for distance. this had happened far too many times. it was his tale, not of honour or glory had in battle, but of loneliness. and it was something to which the eagle had become deeply accustomed.

this mothwing must have been no woman at all, only a girl. as crowfeather himself was young. he told himself the vestiges of hurt in the shadow's heart had created this projection. one too many times he had allowed things to slip beyond the current gate. it had only brought hurt in the end.

"which is it you want more, crowfeather?" he asked, in the manner of a man buckling armor around his chest. "you may only choose one. you cannot mingle the two. and i can only offer one." and so there was but a single choice. "longer fellowships than ours have decided this was a reason to break apart. i would not want to see our trust dismantled in such a way."