Lion Head Mesa coming up roses

Gucci’s scent – though changed – was familiar enough for Crowfeather to plod after him. The dark wolf was slow, still crippled by the injury to his back leg. He had found a way to wander the halls of Akashingo on his own, using the walls for support whenever he was unable to press on. It was shaky and borderline pathetic, but Crowfeather did it on his own.

The sound of the little one’s mournsome howl pricked Crowfeather’s ears to a tall point. He shuffled faster, feeling his heart increase as he trudged. When he turned the corner, there was the small figure – clad in his filthy sweater and gazing out upon the mesa with doleful eyes. The seer wondered if he would be intruding on the other man’s company. Gucci did not look as though he was seeking the companionship of the mesa’s residents.

Gucci, Crowfeather whispered after a moment of standing awkwardly in the corner. His dark tail waved uncertainly. Hi… I- I haven’t seen you around for a while. Oh, but Crowfeather was so glad that the little fellow hadn’t disappeared.