Luneshale Pass at the serpent's behest

castel sets out at first light, slipping quietly from leto’s quarters while dawn still clings to the horizon. his body carries the lingering ache of last night’s indulgence, but the memory stirs a flicker of satisfaction rather than regret. he’s done what he came to do—gained his foothold in verapaz—and now he’s tasked with more.

the words of @Soto guide him north, toward luneshale pass.

he walks alone, the sun climbing behind him, painting his sandy-red pelt in gold. the wind kicks up now and then, stinging his nose with dust and grit, but he presses on. over the dunes, through rocky flats, and up the gentle slopes that funnel into luneshale’s winding corridor.

over the lip that'd drop him into the pass proper -- she comes rolling down, a ball of spittle and snarls, in deadly tango with an emaciated fox.

neither bitch nor vixen notice their third, busy being a blur of anger as they come down the slope in a dustball of motion.