Whitebark Stream cerno

the bone-deep ache of traveling had begun to work upon the centurion, but he remained poised, upright. he had not been snapped in twain by eagles to falter now. 

it was a pale man auraed in a dusting of gold that answered. his voice bore the sound of cold places that the wanderer had not yet walked. "hail," he grunted, tones colored with disuse. "i am germanicus julius caesar. grant me a place, and i shall serve you well."

no one need know who he had once been.