Lion Head Mesa Within the garden gates

Tell him that you want him.

Crowfeather hated how Germanicus tried to reason with him. The man’s words filled his head, but he was beginning to get confused. He did not want to hear reason. Not in that moment, not when he was so flustered, so addled.

It is not the time. Now is not the time for such foolishness.

The silver eagle stated that he did not intend to die. Crowfeather snorted a petulant sound, somewhere between a bitter laugh and a hiss of irritation. Was that supposed to ease him? Of course, Germanicus, if there were no intentions to meet your end… It all felt like a terrible joke, like something cruel that sat upon his shoulder and laughed, mocking.

I do not intend to die, either.

Crowfeather dared to hold his head up, to meet the weary gaze of the older man. Tears pricked sharply at the backs of his eyes.

If that is acceptable in the face of my worries, then it is the same for your own.

Crowfeather did not want to go to war.

I will go where it is you go – to battle, to the east, to the depths of the sea.

The shadow tightened, not daring to look away.