Lion Head Mesa All the proud hours I hold are around you

Tavina spoke of Tamar, souring Crowfeather.

The young darkling did not believe that she should speak of the former maid. Tamar was far more special than Tavina would ever be. She had gotten free of Akashingo, somehow. The shadow could not blame her for not staying in the mesa.

When the medic spoke of asking her to return for a day, Crowfeather shot a molten stare at her. The hairs along his neck bristled.

No. Crowfeather thought his voice would quaver, but it came out sharp and lashed like a whip.

She is better off far away from here.