Lost Creek Hollow inflexus

Reverence held them cupped in its dark hands.

The crow nudged at the other man’s shoulder. His steps pushed them to the center of the room. There were furs on the ground. It was a place for resting and for dreaming. Crowfeather had toted the pelts into the cave, one after another. It was measly, but he had spent many hours beneath the jeweled cave.

A dark paw scratched at one of the larger pelts. He shuffled it into a position that looked plush, inviting.

They did not need to speak. Crowfeather could exist in silence. He wanted only to press his body close to the figure of the other man. The shadow needed to find its source.