Sleepy Fox Hollow You're a difficult love, I'm a narrow escape

This is set on October 22nd.

Crowfeather dreamed of stars.

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A glittering white wolf stepped through a sea of black and blue. Her eyes were stars themselves, twinkling brightly.

You have been reckless, Crow’s Feather.

Have I? The shadow could not remember where he had been before being there, in the sea of starlight.

Mothwing? Where am I?

Crowfeather did not know why he had asked. It was as if a fever dream had taken hold of him, had magnified the vividness of his normal dreams and made them real. All around him, he could feel the stars move – their breath ruffled the hairs upon his ears.

You are in the Sea of Stars, the between lands. You are in grave danger, Crow’s Feather.

The shadow blinked, shaking his head to clear away the confusion he felt. What could have happened that he might end up in the Sea of Stars? Everything before that time felt fuzzy, unclear, as though his memories had been sitting on a shelf for years and only dust could outline the shape of what they had once been.

Am I dead?

At once, her face appeared closer, and he swore that he could smell the remnants of berries and mint upon her glittering frame. No, you are somewhere between life and death, between the stars and the earth, she answered him, soft and sweet. This did not ease the shadow’s mind, for he could not remember how it was that he had arrived there.

What… what do I do, Mothwing?

Crowfeather heard his voice echo back to him. His ears fell to his head.

I believe you have a choice, Mothwing said to him quietly, the glimmer of her eyes faded. You may stay here and take your place among the stars, or you can return.

The silence that filled the space between them was deafening. The shadow searched the features of his dearest friend, the first wolf he had ever loved. She had not answered his question in the way he had hoped she might. Mothwing had given him a choice to make, one that would determine his fate. It seemed an impossible choice to make. Crowfeather had grown tired.

I- I don’t know what to do.

The stars shimmered brightly. The piercing cry of an eagle sliced through the dream, tearing at the darkness and spilling light through the gaping hole.

Follow the eagle’s path, Mothwing whispered to him and her scent filled his nose.

Crowfeather closed his eyes, reveling in the familiarity of her.

Wings brushed his head, and he was lifted from the darkness. As he was carried closer to the gash of light, Crowfeather could feel the bird’s talons pierce through his flesh – a vividly painful sensation. Higher and higher, until the light swallowed them up.

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Sunlight had broken through thick grey clouds, sparkling as it touched the dew on the leaves of the wild grass and trees. It had rained and most of the blood that had pooled beneath the dark figure had been washed away, the crimson softened to a ruddy brown. The cold air of the mountain range bit deeply into the dark wolf’s flesh.

Crowfeather’s eyes fluttered wearily.

The shadow could see a bird flying over his head, wings stretched wide into the sky. The sound of an eagle filled his ears.

Germanicus… the dark wolf croaked feebly.

There was no strength left in his legs to lift him up. There was no light left to push him forward. The sound of the eagle’s wings was like thunder in his ears. Crowfeather did not understand why he hurt the way that he did, why he could not move his hind leg. Why was it that when he found his footing, the world seemed to shift?

Crowfeather lurched forward and tumbled from the stony peak, down the slope and into the thick of the hollow below. Once he had reached the bottom, he had slipped from consciousness again.

In the trees overhead, sparrows chirped.