Lion Head Mesa lectus

germanicus was aware that ears listened in akashingo

but crowfeather's voice drew him at once to the bedside. he saw the wounds healing. he smelled the plants that slate had used. his eyes searched the depths of the shadow's own.

"there was no war. she is gone. run off. ursus follows her."

it was not what he wanted to say. it was only what he knew how to say.

the eagle crept closer, lowering himself to his haunches. in this small distance he could take crowfeather's own scent, beneath the medicinal wafting.

his eyes welled with an anguish that he showed quite rarely. the soldier cleared his throat.