Bramblepoint Rose petals

The soldier had every right to know why Crowfeather had asked. The seer understood that it was unfair of him to ask so many things of the older man and then never give him real reasons for his curiosity.

When considered, Crowfeather might not have understood his reasons for asking. There were simply feelings that fluttered about inside of him, beating their wings against his belly, his chest, his lungs, in their desperate attempt to break free. Wings that seemed to spring to life whenever the silver guard drew near.

I think- well, I think you would make a fine father. Your children would surely love you.

The word love hung on his tongue for only a second.

A fine mate, too. Crowfeather’s cheeks burned hot beneath his dark coat.