Blackfeather20 Massacre
MY FEET WERE COLD, which didn’t seemed strange; I was stark naked and drawing marks on my wall map with a Sharpie. Somehow, I’d filled in a line from Springfield, Missouri all the way to Omaha, Nebraska with marks and dates for campsites. I might not know where I was going, but I guess I knew where I’d been. I looked at my shoulder and could see the six indentations of the raven’s talons on the front of my shoulder. I could feel the two behind. At least he hadn’t broken the skin. I was...