Lion Head Mesa (ap) passim

The dark figure had listened to the bustle of the wedding party from the chamber where he healed. His tall ears would swivel to meet the steps of partygoers as they passed, the laugh of a stranger in the distance, or the sound of the Fellahin.

When Germanicus’ steps were caught outside the entrance, the shadow turned his head toward it and waited. The silver eagle stepped into the room to inform him that Ruenna from Redhawk Caldera was there to see him. Crowfeather had not anticipated such a visitor. He pushed his torso from the ground and looked down to see his scarred legs. It was not likely he could make himself appear nicer for her, but he did what he could.

When the woman entered, Crowfeather smiled gently to her and bowed his head toward the ground.

Hello, lady Ruenna… it is very nice to see you, he said to her, still whistling through the spaces where his teeth had been.

The woman was kind. She approached carefully; her words were gentle. The yearling waved his tail to her and motioned for her to enter, to make herself comfortable in the small space. Ruenna was a guest, after all.

I do not have much of an appetite today. Could you tell me how the party is?