Mount Apikuni primo

aw - but mature

neither juarez nor niño’s voice reaches soto as he climbs a stony rise, face turning seaward. 

a new ghost takes residence in his thoughts; he can feel her presence fumbling around the edges of his conscience, learning the novel metes and bounds of her ephemeral existence. 

soto pushes her aside. he crests a small rise and his breath exhales in vivid plumes from his nostrils. 

no juarez to keep him down. 

no niño to worry his heels. 

he throws back his head and loosens his fury into the world; a howl so sharp it surely must pierce the clouds and reach the indifferent sun loitering just out of view.