Rosewater Oasis fight, little wolf, fight

@Saleem first, would also love a Verapaz member or two!

Sylianos groaned as he dropped to his belly by the pool. Despite the winter chill in the wind, he felt flushed. The skin around the deep wound on his haunch was tight and hot, which didn't help matters. Scowling, he ran his tongue over it and grimaced when the taste of something putrid flooded his mouth.

Ugh. Sick, bro. I think it's infected, he said, hauling himself back to his paws and moving to the water's edge with a sidelong glance at his twin. Sylianos didn't know the first thing about healing, but he knew an infection was going to be very bad for their future prospects. He bent down to drink, then gave himself a light shake and winced as his haunch burned. What now?

Saleem made a gagging sound as he watched his mirror lap up whatever was coming out of his wound. Bruh, he muttered, feeling the contents of his stomach threatening to return to the surface. Saleem was by no means weak when it came to a lot of things, but grody, oozing, infected wounds were definitely in the "ick" category. He bent down next to his brother (but not too close) to lap up some water as well, hoping the cool water might help to keep his breakfast in its place.

I don't know fuck about shit, but maybe we can find somebody who will take pity on you. I can pick up the slack for ya until it's better. He couldn't see Sylianos being terribly helpful in his current state. Saleem hadn't mentioned it, but he did think his brother had been slowing them down the past couple of days. If he didn't get a handle on this infection thing, Saleem didn't want to imagine what would happen. It almost made him wish he'd tried to pick up on their mother's teachings back in the day.

two boys roughened by the dust of the road. one carrying the faint heat of infection.

soto watches as they lurk near the bank, one supping the still-water. speaking. neither of them paying mind to their surroundings.

youth or naïveté? he crosses their periphery at twenty meters and lowers himself to the water, drinking in deep draughts as he cleanses the dust and the heat of the desert from his throat with one ear trained towards them.

Pah, said Sylianos with a self-confident sneer that quavered weakly when a fresh wave of heat and nausea rushed through him. Even with this gnarly-ass shit, I don't—

He cut off there as, for the first time, he noticed they had company. Where the hell did that guy come from? his eyes seemed to say as they cut sharply to Saleem. Man, this wound was affecting him more than he realized. The desert was flat as flat could be, yet this copper-bellied shadow had so easily snuck up on him. He was scarred and only had one eye. Dude had probably seen some shit.

Unwilling to be outmatched by some creep in spite of his condition, Sylianos summoned what bravado remained to him and stood taller. It took everything he had not to let his legs tremble with the effort. You better not fuck with us, he warned in a low rumble.

Saleem knew it was coming before he even finished his sentence. Of course Sylianos would never own up to being even a little bit weak. Not that Saleem was any better in that regard. However, when his twin stopped mid-sentence and changed his tune, Saleem followed his brother's gaze to the stranger who had so silently snuck up on them. Saleem blamed it on his loud slurping of the water, while this one-eyed freak seemed to drink almost noiselessly. Now that was a party trick worth learning.

He caught Sylianos's wordless question, and Saleem shrugged in silent response. Even with his twin injured as badly as he was, the odds were still in their favor, and Saleem moved so that he was shoulder-to-shoulder with his near identical kin. The hair along his spine raised to make him larger than he truly was, and he watched the stranger with rapt attention. One step too close to them, and Saleem's tensed muscles would be ready to expand to propel him forward.

they notice him. they speak. exchanging glances no language barrier could blockade.

soto sits up, wipes the dribble from his chin.

the first bristles - the second moving to stand alongside him. more words.

he notices they are identical save their eyes. one the warm color of terrestrial earth; the other the hazy blue of the sky.

irony works in strange ways.

soto moves from the bank. away from them and away from the discharging energy he can feel swarm them. they've every right to be alarmed.

for a time he disappears, but when he returns it is with a mouthful of winter-ravaged reeds and the thin heads of yarrow. their stems were opaque with winterrot, but it was to the blue-eyed brother soto slides the bundle, motioning to the injured one. por su herida.

and then he sits; a lion's coil to his muscles as he waits for one brother to treat the other.

The warmth of Saleem's shoulder aligning with his lent strength to Sylianos. It made the raging pain and heat in his haunch almost bearable and cut through the faint haze of fever and infection that dulled his eyes. For a moment, Sylianos almost considered that they could fuck this guy up for laughs.

Then the dark wolf turned and left, rendering the ridiculous thought moot. You better run, he mumbled. When Soto was fully out of sight, he sat down with a wince. Fucking shit, he growled, I wish mom was here. That he would ever admit it aloud, even to the other half of his soul, spoke volumes about his plight.

When Soto returned with weathered and wilty plants, Sylianos was unable to regain his footing to make a second stand. He was too shaky, too badly in need of a rest. Just a little rest and he would be better; that was what he repeated in his head while the man presented his plants to Saleem and spoke up in a tongue Sylianos had never heard.

No amount of denying his condition could render it false. If those plants were medicine, he needed them badly, or who knew what would happen. Neither he nor Saleem knew shit about medicine. The sheer hope of someone simply giving them the treatment threatened to haul him forward and scoop up every last bit of shriveled greenery into his selfish mouth, no questions asked. If life had taught him anything, though, it was that no one did nice deeds just to feel good about themselves. There was always a cost.

He looked to his brother for guidance. Saleem would know what price was worth paying. Much as he wanted to tell this guy to go fuck a deer antler, he couldn't bring himself to refuse outright. Not with that little glimmer of hope for recovery flapping around in his breast.

Instead of attacking, the other dude disappeared. Saleem was still buzzing with adrenaline when Sylianos mentioned mom. If his brother mentioned that, Saleem knew it was really serious. They really were going to have to find somebody to mend the sickly wound, or they were going to be in some seriously deep shit.

To Saleem's surprise, the stranger reappeared with a bundle of plants. Now he really wished he had paid attention to anything his mother had said about medicine. He said something incomprehensible, then pushed the bundle toward Saleem. The blue-eyed twin sniffed at it, looked at Sylianos, who was looking at him for guidance. They really were in way, way over their heads, and it was more apparent now than ever.

What is this shit? Saleem asked the other guy. Was he trying to put Sylianos out of his misery? Because that was not gonna fly. Why would he come up here and randomly help them? If there was one truth of life Saleem had learned in his nearly two years on this planet, it was that you did not receive things for free. There was always, always a price to be paid. Why would you help us, anyway?

when he returned the boy could not even rise. his fever slaked off of him volcanic and pulsing.

soto's attention turned to the second one, who bristled into his space with a question curling around his tongue.

he knows words would do little here. rising, he seizes the first of the reeds and motions to the supine brother. packing them into his mouth, he makes a slurry of them -- and it is this he spits into a paw and shows them both.

then he seizes the slurry between his teeth and jerks his head to the standing brother. sujetarlo, he instructs, not that it would mean anything. seeing this, soto advances towards the fetid hole rendering sylianos unstable. he jerks his head roughly at the upright brother and then, without much tenderness, spat the slurry and packed it down into the seeping wound.