Lion Head Mesa the mosquitoes were almost unbearable

There were many new scents on the mesa and word had traveled that a band of wolves had entered the realm of Akashingo with purpose. Crowfeather had remained in the shade, gathering herbs that naturally grew on the flatland, creating stores that could be used by Satsu and himself. Quietly, he had prayed that there would be no need for the medicines. Each time he gazed out on the surrounding land, the mountains to the east, Crowfeather felt impending doom.

An unfamiliar figure seemed to be peering pensively into the distance. The shadow approached him with a nervous wave of his tail. Crowfeather kept his head low, the narrow length of his snout was pointed toward the rough red stone beneath him. When he allowed his gaze to rise, he saw a horrifying empty socket where the stranger’s eye should have been.

I- you- Gods, he could not stop from staring. Were you injured in the attack? Do you need herbs?

The wound looked old, but he could never be certain.