Lost Creek Hollow avisame

How could Crowfeather be a wonderful father? He had no foundation for such a thing. Thoughts of his own father flooded to his mind. He remembered the harshness in the words spoken to him. He remembered the cruel joy that his father got in making his son shake with fear. These were not things for children. These were cold and harsh and unforgiving things.

Silvertongue wished to know how they named children in the Starsea. She had taken a name that he had given her. She had given up the name she had been born into.

The dark figure was silent while the air around them hummed with life. How could he be a good father? Crowfeather was nothing but softness and uncertainty. His children would sniff out the weakness in him before they had spoken their first words. These worries were kept trapped inside the dark star.

Children are named for their colors or their personality or their intended role. I am of the Crow’s Wing. My sister was Silver Light on the Owl. Silverowl had been beautiful, too. She had commanded the Starsea with her strength and her endurance. Always the best and always the brightest.

I had a brother too, Crowfeather whispered. His honey gold eyes were fixed on something faraway. Shadow of the Moon. But Moonshadow had disappeared long ago. And he had taken chunks from each member of Crowfeather’s family.