Lion Head Mesa lectus

The soldier was softer when he spoke, softer than Crowfeather could remember him being. The dark wolf nodded his head at the response, unsurprised. It was silly to have asked, he knew. The ankle that had been broken still pained him. It took a considerable effort just to move himself around the cavern, trying to work the muscles in his lean frame to keep them from diminishing.

How long do you think? Before we can go? he asked instead, hoping that he would put it in Germanicus’ mind that he did not wish to remain there, no matter who he had to tend to his wellbeing. Crowfeather was still dedicated to their original plan of traveling east.

When the eagle spoke again, of his time in the mountains, the shadow was silenced.

A smile lingered on his lips. His eyes searched the older man’s features hungrily. Crowfeather wished to tell Germanicus that there was not a single moment in his absence that the injured yearling had not pictured him, seen his expressions, imagined the summerlight yellow of his eyes. I think of you all the time, he forced himself to swallow the words.

Were- Were they good thoughts? he whispered instead.