Lion Head Mesa Within the garden gates

The dark wolf was confused. He stared at Germanicus, heart beating in his throat, in his eardrums, down the length of his limbs as though it was climbing through his veins, through his muscle. How had it evolved into this great big thing? Crowfeather had only gone to relay information, to help their plans further along, but it had dissolved into… this.

And what about what I want? the dark wolf asked sharply.

It is what you wish, what you want, or do not- that woman is dying. The Pharaoh thinks that I am some… court physician that he wishes to keep for himself, like some treasure, but I am not. I am- Crowfeather exhaled sharply, frustrated that he could not express himself the way that he wished, so eloquently – the way Germanicus spoke.

The shadow felt overwhelmed by the man's strange confession.

When he looked to Germanicus, it was pleadingly. Ursus is here, Germanicus. They do not need either one of us to fight. So why is it that you wish to go?

What am I supposed to do if you die? Stay here? the princeling almost spat this at his feet.

I would sooner return to the wolves who hunt me.

The fire inside of him cracked before fading. Crowfeather felt tired in a way he did not believe sleep could fix.