Lion Head Mesa leg so hot u fry an egg

It was not until the orange-eyed man spoke – a single word – that Crowfeather realized how fragile he was. If the man upon their borders were to push for an attack, there would be no way to stop him. If he darted into the mesa, the shadow would never catch him. His nerves prickled inside of him before he mustered the courage to lift his gaze to the other figure’s face and answer.

A- A man. His… his name is Germanicus.

Crowfeather did not know why he answered. This stranger didn’t know the silver eagle. Shame burned hot inside of him, rising to his cheeks. How had he not been more mindful? The shadow could feel the heartache that hung on his words.