Luneshale Pass I don't know where to put my hands

Patrolling borders is simple enough, and Kemal has found over the months of his lifetime that he quite enjoys the silence. Careful eyes scan the expanse past the Verapaz limits, searching for percieved threats and renewing markers along the way. So long as no problems appear on the horizon, he is sure that his task will be completed with ease and he will find himself ranked quickly. He can only hope that his brother is faring as well as himself.

Pausing to take in a breath of the surrounding scents, he is pleasantly brushed over by a passing breeze. He could get used to this life.

His mom intended to depart the pass, though that didn’t mean he couldn’t still visit at his leisure. Bushtit reminded himself of this as he left Towhee in her favorite blind near the borders. He had only just arrived there but he swore he would return quickly with snacks.

Only after she’d faded into the distance behind him did he let his face crumple a little, revealing his true feelings on the matter. It wasn’t a big deal and he could hardly fault her, especially given what was in the works. But he’d gotten used to coming home to both his parents…

Shoving his thoughts aside, Bushtit inhaled sharply through his nose and then halted to assess his surroundings. Did he want to dip into one of Verapaz’s caches—surely his padre wouldn’t mind—or fetch something fresh? He’d gotten rather good at catching small game during his travels, as it was kind of a necessity to not only stay energized but alive.

Before he could make up his mind, he saw a figure striding along a nearby stretch of borderline. Bushtit didn’t recognize the man, whose hulking frame made his eyes widen a little. He looked a bit like a Redhawk, a thought which had the younger male swiveling on a heel and loping toward him.

Hey! he announced himself as he approached. ¡Hola! he did not forget to add, curious which one would suit the strange giant.

Little kuş prens approaches. Kemal does not know him, only of him. Pausing his stride when the boy calls out, he stares down at him stoic and calm.

You speak English or Spanish? He asks in return to the other's greeting, eyebrow raised. He has more fluency in one than the other, but knows he will struggle if both are spoken at once. Neither are his first language.

Looking past the boy, he checks to see if anyone is following after him. To be vigilant, if nothing else.

Yes, he replied with a cheeky smile, letting that answer hang for a beat before adding, Si, I speak a little of los dos. Which one are you more comfortable with?

Bushtit hoped he said the former, because he was still pretty limited in his father’s tongue. As Soto crossed his mind, he wondered how this guy knew his padre. Perhaps the Segundo had recruited him for his sheer size. Or perhaps he’d found Verapaz on his own. He was sure it would come out in conversation, once they established which language to use.

English. He responds after a moment. The way he mixes the two languages together so eagerly, Kemal suspects that the boy must have begun learning one recently - Spanish likely, from the way he is accented Borders need to be marked. If you want to talk, keep up. His words are blunt and honest, the giant resuming his previous pace along the territory edge.

He had never quite known how to interact with younger wolves - he had always been a bit stiff and awkward, but at least he could warn an adult with a nip or growl if they pushed too hard. Doing the same to a child would feel cruel; they didn't know any better.

Before he could think of what question to ask first, the towering wolf commanded him to keep up as he marked the borders. Bushtit blinked, but quickly fell into step beside the larger male. Part of him smarted at the terse words and wanted to say, Do you even know who I am? But that would be a cringe thing to say. Of course he didn’t know; they hadn’t even exchanged introductions.

I’m Bushtit, he said, having to tilt his head quite a bit to look up at the wolf he flanked. He bit his tongue against the douchey urge to name drop, instead querying, What’s your name?

A strange name. He wonders how the boys mother must have thought of it - an animal of some sort, maybe. Kemal. He responds while lowering his nose to the ground momentarily, checking for any strange scents. Your Spanish, you're learning. Did you come to Verapaz recently? He can't help but question it; Kemal is in a similar boat after all.

He wonders how much further he had to go now; his legs should get a pretty good exercise at the pace he's going. No complaints from him there.

He offered his name, then remarked about Bushtit’s Spanish, inferring he was both new and inexperienced. The youth felt a little prickly at both insinuations, though he quickly smoothed his proverbial petticoats.

No, I’m not new, he replied, which was the truth, albeit only part of it. Are you? I haven’t seen you around before.

It took a decent amount of effort to keep pace with Kemal. He could feel the burn in his leg muscles. Bushtit didn’t mind it, though he abruptly remembered he was supposed to be fetching food for his mother, not ranging the borders. But with how it was going so far, he didn’t imagine this conversation would last too long.

He gave a nod to the boys question. I've been here for a moon, about. He says. My brother brought me. He was here before, but I asked him to help me with an issue in our birth home. He would not specify what - a child did not need to hear him crying about his dead wife.

I have nowhere else to be, so I stay here. My Spanish needs practice. He grunts, pausing to renew a border marking. You speak it well. From what he could tell, at least.

Kemal’s answer begged another question: Who’s your brother?

Bushtit wondered if he knew him. He was surprised to hear Kemal had been around an entire month, though it wasn’t that farfetched that they hadn’t met yet. He didn’t really live here, at least not officially. And when he spent time here, it was mostly with his parents.

Nah, he countered modestly, despite his mild offense a moment ago. I mean, I can make basic conversación but I still need lots of practice también.

He waited while Kemal paused to mark, swiping his own paws halfheartedly through the dust. He might not belong to Verapaz—and he really ought to be grabbing his mom that snack—but Bushtit still wanted to do his part while he was here.

Leandros. He answered without hesitation, though he was not quite sure that the wolves of Verapaz referred to his brother with the name. I'm not sure we aren't here purely because he likes the Segundo. He has strange taste. He grunted, though he likely would not of mentioned it had he known he was speaking of Bushtit's father.

Verapaz was a.. strange scene, for Kemal. It was forcing him to learn far more about Leandros than he was ever mean to. He was sure that his brother did not think he knew, but Kemal was far from dense; he knew the moment they had arrived in the basin. Before that, it had been the servant boy in their birth pack. There was always one. Once Kemal thought he would grow out of it, now he knew it was not something that simply went away.

Bushtit snorted through his nose. Soto was strange, wasn’t he? He liked the guy, but he could easily admit that much. The deeper insinuation went over his young head entirely.

Haven’t met him, he said about Leandros. And, hey, I’m glad you guys are here and it was cool meeting you, but I actually have to go grab something to eat. It’s for my mom, Towhee, in case you’ve met her. And Soto’s my dad, actually, he tacked on, because it actually seemed relevant now. ¡Adios!

The mention of Soto being the boys dad made him tense momentarily, but Bushtit seemed unbothered.

The boy soon took his exit, leaving Kemal to finish his patrol. He nodded to him as he went. At the very least, he seemed like a good kid.