Lion Head Mesa the mosquitoes were almost unbearable

Crowfeather had almost anticipated that he would be left without an answer. The man’s voice surprised him, the anger that licked at every word. The Saints had killed his wife.

The seer’s dark ears toppled to his head, flattening there. The width of his eyes stretched, worry striking his mouth into a thin-lipped frown. Fear aside, the shadow felt the echoing sadness of the one-eyed wolf. The weight of his words sat heavily in Crowfeather’s belly, filling him with the ache of hopelessness. Standing beside the stranger, the shadow shrunk.

I- I am sorry. The man’s words hung in his mind, swirling with the things Germanicus had said.

Crowfeather knew that Germanicus must hear that this wolf would not wait. He and his brood would march on the Saints regardless of Akashingo or their plans.

They are planning the best c- course of action. I am sure you could lead the charge in- in honor of your wife. The dark wolf itched to leave.