Lion Head Mesa Within the garden gates

The silver eagle remained rather quiet, pensive. The shadow watched his companion’s eyes fix on the stone wall before he spoke.

Crowfeather listened closely, his heart thrumming in his ears. Germanicus wanted to prepare him to stay behind, to remain there while he forged ahead into battle. The seer was angry, unreasonably so. He felt his hackles bristle and he drew his narrow snout upward to look down upon the older man with only a glimpse of rage in the dull gold of his eyes.

Why?

The word was said with ice, sharp in its edges.

You will give me a reason, Germanicus. I have worked tirelessly to tend to the wounded, to gather information, to learn how to be of use. I have- his voice caught in the back of his throat and Crowfeather turned sharply to conceal his face from the man across from him.

You cannot stop me. Shame on you… for looking at me that way. Shame on you-

The shadow looked to Germanicus.

For trying to force me to stay by making me feel guilty.