Lion Head Mesa I'm no good at waiting

The fiery maid swept from the room and returned a short time later with moss that had been soaked in water. Crowfeather lapped at it. The coldness on his tongue was soothing and his dry throat no longer ached. The dark figure had been thirstier than he’d imagined.

At night, he would sweat in his dreams and wake dampened through his coat. They had grown more vivid to him and without the light of the stars, Crowfeather felt he would never be able to interpret them. How was it that he still possessed the seer’s dreams when he was so far away from the Starsea? It was clear that there were things he would not be able to run from.

Tamar asked if he believed Germanicus would not return to Akashingo. Crowfeather sulked, ears falling flat upon his head.

Why would he need to?