Lost Creek Hollow Here comes good news, here comes sorrow

Crowfeather wished that he could see himself as they saw him, too. Maybe it would make sense why they were still there. But Germanicus had stayed for a long while, too. He had stayed for what felt like seasons, until he hadn’t. How long would it take for Sandulf and Silvertongue to realize that they should depart, as well? How much time did the three-legged shadow have with his friends?

The young wolf would have given anything to change. He would have cleaved his heart from his chest and offered it as a sacrifice, if it would guarantee him some sense of normalcy. It was easy for Sandy to offer such advice! He was kind and handsome, he did not suffer with this madness. The weight of what Crowfeather was felt unbearable.

I’m tired… of being alone.

Crowfeather had friends, of course. He considered himself quite fortunate to have the company he did in Riverclan. They were good to him, and he did not deserve it. Friendship was different, though. It did not reach the same level of intimacy that he so craved. He could not grow a family or fall in love. He was unlovable, he had concluded.

Crowfeather sniffed, lifting a paw to rub at his eyes.

Sorry, Sandy. I should not have said anything. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

The dark figure stiffened, hardening himself against the rush of emotion.