Lost Creek Hollow inflexus

a tactician's senses always reached in a hyperstate of constant arousal.

germanicus plucked the thin bowstrings of humming anticipation between the pair of them. in the open sungold of the celestial's gaze the eagle knew he would not be turned aside if he reached now.

the fish appreciated but unfinished, the roman closed his eyes beneath the filtering of crowfeather's breath down to the quills of fur populating gooseflesh.

"show me this cave of stars," he asked in a voice made hot by the shadow's kindling.