Luneshale Pass Immerse the baby's head

Since Delos' incident in the sun his mother had been quite strict about him going outside. However today the pass was clouded over, not a ray in sight. Rain was surely on the way.

Lanky, growing legs made their way along the side of the stream. The quiet trickle of water, the breeze against the rocks, it evaded him entirely, but he could still feel the cold land against his paws, still feel the wind as it brushed past his fur, and most importantly; it all smelled like home.

He looked forward to the warm weather his mother promised. He wanted to swim again.

Lifting his head, he gave his best practised howl to the clouds above.

delos' wavering howl draws soto to him nearly immediately; the man's patrols range close to home these days, for the cat had inspired a sense of fear in him that fiamma's death only triplicated.

he bursts through a parcel of tall reeds, finding the boy close to the riverbank. the grey clouds overhead move mutely as soto advances, sniffing the boy's shoulders and face before searching his face: why had he howled? was he hurt?

Soto comes to him like a charging bull, checking over him the same way he always seems to. But there are no burns today, only Delos with a wagging tail and wiggling body to match. He is still shy of the segundo, but a friend of his mother's is a friend of his.

Something on the water catches his eye, the boy whipping his head to see it proper. Mirar! His word comes out an excitable cry, lavender eyes fixed on a bug gliding across the surface of the river. He has never seen such a thing before; how does it manage to stand upon the liquid while Delos simply sinks?

soto's initial alarm subsides as he realizes the boy is fine. more than fine, actually - his wriggling body is free of the redness from before, and his expression is as sunny as the clouds above are grey.

mirar! exclaims the cloudpuff puppy, his gaze rapt upon the darting of bugs upon the water. soto grins; once, somewhere around delos' age, soto had been hungry. he'd wandered from the den down to a creek, and here a great gyration of monarch butterflies wheeled, their orange wings fanning the air in wildfire strokes. he'd been mesmerized -- but he'd been hungry too -- and he'd spent the better part of an hour leaping and cavorting while the fluttering things easily winged past the clumsy snaps of his puppy teeth.

to be young again! soto sinks to his belly, nudging delos towards the water. atrápalos, muchacho. he urges, unaware the boy might not hear him.

For a moment he is silent and unmoving except for the twitching of ears, eyes fixed on Soto while he works the bits and peieces of words paired with gestures. However it seems to click, Delos diving into the water with snapping jaws and a 'splash!'

He of course does not catch the striders who are much too quick for clumsy swimmers, but he is pleased nonetheless.

Soggy fur pushing through, he turns back to Soto empty-jawed yet grinning ear-to-ear. Ven a ayudar! Son demasiado rápidos. He speaks almost as if this is a challenge, a tone that he has surely taken from games with his more daring brother.

the bank splatters with water as delos jumps, sending the small rivergliders skating. he grins and makes a great show of being nervous about getting wet, despite delos' urging.

but in seconds he's airborne, hinds tucked to belly and paws brought to chest -- coming down upon the bank like a dark cannonball. his body disappears underwater, emerging seconds later with a grin and a snap aimed at delos' paddling form.

the waterskates dart around them. soto watches their dancing movements, cutting a splashing wave towards delos as he stalks them towards the banks.

He watches Soto launch into the air and crash into the water, Delos squealing with delight as small waves push him to the other side of the shore and a single splash has him soaked.

Delos watches with a twitching tail as Soto stalks the bugs. He knows the benefit of observation well; if he wants to catch the gliding bugs, he has to watch how Soto does it.

few things more magical than the laughter of children; soto's heart sinks as he turns to the banks.

by the time he turns back to delos the sadness would have left his eye; he lunges at a waterskate with an empty snap of teeth, driving it towards the observant boy.

now, its his turn to play hunter.

No words need to be exchanged for Delos to understand; it's his turn to hunt the insects. This time properly.

Beginning with a raised paw, he hesitates. That isn't quite right. Crouching down instead he lunges forward to snap at the bug the way he had watched Soto do - though with the hopes of catching it. The bug is too quick and he instead earns a mouth of empty water, but Delos seems happy nonetheless. Bastards. He spits out the word at the escaping water bugs, a bit too young to understand the irony.

The sky is growing dark behind the clouds, Delos deciding that means he should return home. Hopping back into the stream, he makes his way across swiftly this time.

a great belly laugh sounds from the segundo as he watches the boy alter his hunting plans, imitating soto and also coming up empty. 

he claps the boy’s back in commiseration, shrugging. these things are fast — it will be months yet before delos tastes the unique unpleasantry of bug between his teeth. 

sensing the rising darkness, soto follows the boy across the stream and leads him home; leto will wonder soon, and it was best for young things to be tucked securely in a den before the night-stalkers resumed their nocturnal roamings.