Lost Creek Hollow See how breeze and grass do play

The young wolf appeared in a semi-groggy state. Crowfeather's ears flipped back apologetically. He had not intended to disturb the boy's rest. It was important that he was able to find a sense of peace while he was within the borders of Riverclan.

Aquillius asked if he was needed. The tripod felt his cheeks burn hot, embarrassed. There was a lump in the back of his throat that he feared he could not swallow. Germanicus' son seemed just as duty-bound as his father. The similarities sat like curdled milk in Crowfeather's belly.

Please, no… there is no work you must do in Riverclan. This is- You are meant to rest here.

The dark figure was flustered.

Have you been having dreams? he asked quietly.