Lost Creek Hollow See how breeze and grass do play

Aquillius was, of course, doubtful of the black toned man, the expression sliding further into skepticism the more Crowfeather talked.

He’s just as off as I am. Came the uncharitable thought that he quickly killed before it could root in his skull. Everyone was entitled to their beliefs, he supposed. Such as his own fledgeling views upon Mars, whoever he was supposed to be. Germanicus hadn’t been the most forward about it, from what he could recall, but..he knew.

The eagleson would trace back his lineage later and try to find in it a spark of divinity that did not exist.

Crowfeather spoke of the stars speaking to him, telling him of visions, and Aqui did not let the emotion cross his face. Visions from the stars? He didn’t know what to think of that. Aquillius didn’t really know what to think of any of this, truth be told.

After a time spent staring silently into the dark, peevish and twitching, he found Crowfeather’s own eyes in the dark, and gave a sharp nod, once.

How do we begin?