Lost Creek Hollow inflexus

The burning beneath his flesh was worse than fever.

Crowfeather swallowed at the lump in his throat. The dark, flightless bird turned to lead them along the river to where the waterfall sounded. The water guided them. It was a familiar path for the shadow who had visited the cave each day. He could not keep himself from the glittering stones that lined the walls within.

At the mouth of the sacred place, he paused. The echo of the waterfall could be felt on the air. The darkness of the cave waited for them like an open mouth. It was ominous, at first glance. From the outside, it looked as though only darkness would thrive in the inkwell.

Crowfeather stepped inside, his breath trapped in his lungs.