Lion Head Mesa I never can quite seem to pull my weight

The man’s laugh startled Crowfeather, but he did what he could not to flinch or shy away from it. He would prefer the Pharaoh stay pleasant and cheerful, if he had to have Ramesses for company. A pathetic smile was forced onto his dark and narrow snout.

The Pharaoh moved on to speak of a man who had made a home for himself within the mesa’s boundaries. He was described as a holy man – a priest – and it was suggested that Crowfeather seek him out to be grounded by his words. The shadow was not sure that was what he wanted. He did not think that his head existed in the clouds, not nearly as much as it had before he had left the Starsea.

We can talk… or- or eat. I think I could do both.

Crowfeather awkwardly cleared his throat.

What was your home like? Like here? Have you carried it with you?