Lion Head Mesa The boy who swallowed a star

The dark wolf laughed nervously, taken aback at the abundance of charm that Pharaoh exuded. Every moment that Crowfeather spent beside him had filled him with uncertainty, a wash of kindness that had overtaken his memory of the man before – the man who had traveled alongside the Saint called Nyra.

I will heal whatever I can, Pharaoh, he answered softly, brushing his nose against the fair man’s features with delicacy. In the man’s den, it was the first time that Crowfeather had seen just how beautiful Pharaoh was.

When the lapis-eyed wolf asked about Germanicus, Crowfeather shifted and felt himself growing hot.

There were few things that the seer knew about the silver eagle. They had traveled beside each other for more than a month’s time and Crowfeather had not really tried to press beneath the things that Germanicus offered. Those special moments, the moments in which the eagle revealed a piece of himself were sacred.

Crowfeather did not wish to share any of these things with Pharaoh. He knew this to be selfish, but he did not care.

Germanicus is a mystery even to me, Pharaoh. The bits that I know will not do you any good.