Lost Creek Hollow See how breeze and grass do play

The sun was high in the sky as the dark wolf moved into the shadows and set a swift pace for the healing dens.

The boy who had arrived wounded and pleading for death had not warmed much to the company that was offered. No one could blame him for being angry. No one in Riverclan would. Crowfeather still felt his chest tighten and his breathing race when the sharp eyes of Atreus met his face. He was too young to have suffered the way he did. The shadow pleaded with the stars that he might be able to help.

Doedapple's healing den was just ahead. He slowed his pace and chuffed a greeting from outside the den where he believed @Aquillius might still rest.

Aquillius? A-Are you still here?

Fear gripped his belly in a tight hand. What if the young wolf had left without a word?