Redsand Canyon Such a dark destiny

It was shocking that such an event would clash with excitement and fear inside of him. Crowfeather could not pull his mind from Germanicus, from their conversation in the man’s bedchamber, and the cold emptiness he had felt when he had been faced with being left alone. Perhaps it was love that drove him to the borders of the Saints of the Dying Light, perhaps it was only a desperate plea for the shadow to prove himself useful.

Nyra’s teeth sank into his leg. He called out in shock and pain at the searing sensation of her fangs embedded in his hind ankle.

Crowfeather kicked wildly at her with his other foot. His claws aimed to score at her eyes and blind her so that he might know freedom from her hold.

The excitement had withered inside of him. Like the first true frost of winter, the petal of hope had been crippled and had fallen to the earth. The black wolf looked on the white wolf and snapped his teeth for her face, praying that he might find his mark and slip away again. Crowfeather felt his lungs heave.