Dahozhoni Meadow he was living on borrowed time

the cloudy morning was a welcomed reprieve from the unrelenting sun of the past few days, made ever worse by the sand.

towhee jr was beginning to think she wasn't overly fond of sand.

it was just, in these unfamiliar lands further from moonspear than she'd meant to roam, but driven ever forward by bullheadedness, refuses to turn back.

at least, not yet.

the meadow was a sight for eyes, aching and tired. though she does not know the word for mirage, she only hopes that it wasn't a trick of her eyes or imagination. it smelled real enough, and the grasses felt real enough, a cool, soft kiss from the grit of sand.

she makes a beeline for the first source of water she finds, bowing her head to drink from it in small laps, glimpsing over each shoulder after ever lap of water. she isn't keen on having her back exposed ... especially when she couldn't hear if she was alone or not.

but with little choice, she does her best to remain alert as she sates her thirst.

The meadow had become somewhat of a haunting ground for the fire-touched boy. The desert plants with their swollen leaves provided not only a respite from thirst, but also a source of fascination for him and his every-broadening mental library of flora.

A flash of black cuts like a knife through the pale sand; he follows it curiously until he spots the figure of a wolf, no bigger than a pup, chugging water like it was her last day on earth. Sympathising, he knew the feeling. 

He settled into a purposeful trot, letting out a gentle chuff so not to startle them too greatly. "Hey kid," he spoke gently, settling next to her before he drank his fill too. "You lost or something?"

unfortunately, towhee starts with a low snarl, bristling of her guard hairs as she catches the movement of him out of her peripheral vision. the first time she is admittedly aware of his presence.

hawk eyes sharp, she catches it and spins to turn to face him in full; each muscle pulled tense.

and though she itches to attack, there is distance enough between them and as of the moment he does not appear hostile, though each moment feels aching, like blood pumping beneath a bruise.

but it is not near enough for her to let her guard down.

-who are you?- she demands in ptero, knowing that the movements of her paws in the sign language shared between her and her kin ( blood or otherwise ) was likely not to be understood. it is done, mostly, out of knee jerk reaction and borne out of habit.

Despite his careful approach, she turns to him startled and puffed out like a little black cat trying to make itself seem bigger than it was. Now Butterfly was by no means a large wolf, in fact they were almost matched in size. Even so, the fire-touched boy instinctively flattened himself to the sandy ground and stirred his tail in a friendly manner. An easy mistake to make; in such a vulnerable position such as drinking he should've known better to give her more space. 

From his position, he gazed up at her with a puzzled expression as she began to shuffle her paws in rapid succession. What on earth was up with this kid? She was clearly upset. "Woah, hey! I'm not gonna hurt you," he spoke slower this time, meeting her gaze. He chalked up her silence to needing a little time to get used to his presence. The idea that she couldn't understand him - or hear him - didn't cross his mind.

the way that wolves outside of her immediate circle relied on the gift of gab was an annoyance to towhee, who couldn't hear. the silence of her world was not shared among her ilk and though it sometimes causes a burn of jealousy in her chest, it is soothed by the simple fact of not being able to miss something she never had.

she watches, with satisfaction, as he flattens himself to the sand beneath them, and notes the friendly wag of his tail.

though she wishes only to scoff, instinctively, the actions he took soothe the very worst of her hostility.

his lips move, but never having bothered to learn how to lipread — because she'd never needed to, because until recent interactions it hadn't seemed like a necessity — she simply stares at him. blankly.

the movement of his lips mean as much to her as the signing of ptero surely means to him.

the meeting of her eyes sparks something domineering within her and her lips curl back once, in warning; a raspy snarl rumbling in her throat.

she does not bother with ptero again, but feels some of the tension leave her shoulders, her chin lifting, the tilt of her head meant to ask: what do you want?

His speech was met with a blank stare. Not even a nod to acknowledge that she'd even heard him. He would've thought she was being plain rude had he not been well accustomed to different languages from his time with the clan. Slowly, the gears turned in his head.

The snarl does little to scare him; simply acting as a reminder that getting through to her by the common tongue was not going to work out. He considered leaving her, but some semblance of duty tugged at him to help her. After all, she seemed awfully unaccustomed to the desert; Butterfly feared the worst should he let her out of his sight.

At the indignant tilt of her head, the boy rises to his paws and bares his teeth once at her, posture remaining gentle. He meant not to frighten her, only to sternly put her in her place as he melts into the scrub, glancing back once as if to implore her to follow.

the bare of his teeth is met with a burning gaze, unwilling to cower nor back down. bullheaded? absolutely. arrogance borne out of the vitality of youth? without a doubt.

the fact that he seems utterly unfazed, no, unbothered by her snarl digs like an irritant beneath her skin and has her letting out a snort like an angered by contained bull.

logic is keeping her in check. she is alone out here, besides from him — a stranger — and would she get into a fight ... it would decrease her ability to survive, of which the odds were already stacked unfairly against her.

she was at the disadvantage, from many fronts; try as she might to pretend that it wasn't so.

though everything in her tells her not to trust, not to follow, towhee finds herself begrudgingly trailing after him; careful to leave plenty of space to flee lest she was a lamb being led to slaughter.

Her stubbornness grated on him. It took a whole new level of patience not to snap something hurtful at the kid for her unwillingness to cooperate. Surely by now she had figured out he was trying to help? Other than the fact that he knew his words would fall on deaf ears again (pun intended), Butterfly simply didn't have the energy to argue with her.

Patiently, he waited until he could hear her pawsteps behind him before travelling further. As he lead her towards a shallow canyon carved out by a now dry riverbed, he wants to ask her where she's from; did she have family? Travellers were common in the desert, hell, he was one himself, but it was unusual for one that appeared so young to be out here all alone.

The boy thinks of his sister and how lonely it had become since she'd said goodbye. 

A group of prickly pears nestled up against the low cliffside - Butterfly spots his prize and leans in carefully to snatch a mouthful of red fruits which he promptly deposits at the girl's feet. The deliciously sweet juices are a welcome relief from the dry air as he bites one in half and offers her the rest, hoping it would be enough to convince her she wasn't about to be poisoned.

he leads her to and deposits an ... interesting looking fruit at her paws. it looks as sharp as the barbed leaf-things he'd plucked them from. the scent of it when he bites one in half is sweet, like the berries of bramblepoint.

it brings to her mind her adventure there with her mother, and that some fruits were poisionous.

she blinks down at the fruit before hawkish gaze rises to him; watching.

analyzing.

she no longer bothers with ptero, adopting a patience she does not normally harbor, waiting to see if he develops anything adverse.

the minutes stretch on and when she deduces enough time has passed and he has not keeled over that they must be safe. still, she is tentative, taking a small bite. the juice and flesh of the fruit hits her tongue, coating it in a sugary sweet taste unlike anything she has tasted before.

loathe as she was to admit it, she instantly loved it. she takes the rest of the fruit in two bites; and when she is finished she inclines her head in thank you, tongue drawing across her jowls to collect any of the juice that had collected on the shorn fur of her chin.

She watched him eagle-eyed as he eats. Butterfly didn’t blame her for being suspicious; after all, they’d only known each other for a matter of minutes. The boy shuffled his paws anxiously as he waited, some part of him desperate for her approval and the other part hoping that she’d finally come to her senses and listen to him.

It seemed he’d finally got through to her. As she takes the fruit in her jaws, he sighed and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding until he spots the grateful tilt of her head. At least this he could understand. Tail beating, he gestures with a point of his muzzle from the rest of the fruit to the girl as if to say the rest is yours.

Out in the desert, sugars like this would keep you going for far longer than a few gulps of water. 

Protectiveness swells in his chest for the girl, eager to glean at least some sort of understanding before they inevitably parted ways. When he next caught her gaze upon him, he pawed at his muzzle, an unvoiced question raised in the tilt of his head. If she couldn’t understand his language, could she speak some of her own?

more confident that the fruit wasn't poisonous, she takes the second one betwixt her jaws and bites down; refraining from gobbling the sweetfruit down, though, admittedly, it was tempting to her.

she catches the gesture he makes; ocher gaze rising sharply to peer up at him. a swipe of his paw down his muzzle.

a question she gleams from the gesture, though she misunderstands. he thinks she's asking him if she can speak period.

she gives a firm shake of her head: no, only barely resisting the urge to sign it in ptero.

and then she lifts a paw to her ears, swiping it down one so it lays flat against her skull: i can't hear either. the ear lingers like that for a moment before he gives her head a soft shake and it rights itself.