Sky Mesa You can be Amazing

Safiya left the confines of Muat Rya. A girl of almost 6 months she had grown mostly into her size, which lets face it was not bulking by any means. Which was frankly disappointing. She wanted strong muscles and hulking body. She wanted to show the world she could make it beg. And yet she couldn't show it with her size. So she decided she'd show it other ways.

She'd been born fearless. Nothing and no one had a hold on her. Did she love and care yes. But she also thought and schemed and learned. She sparred whoever would let her. She threw herself into training with a reckless abandon that seemed out of place for a fellahin born. But that was the reason. She would not make herself smaller to fit in a box and serve. Nay.

So today she traversed the hardlined Rock's of the sky. She trailed along the Rock's. Pushing herself as far as she could go and then further.

the girl.

khusobek’s presence spooked soto, but now she’s alone between rounded blades of red stone. she pushes herself uphill, eyes set on some distant goal.

soto slips into pursuit, keeping his distance so she was hardly a speck on the slope.

he stops to admire her tracks in the clay. she moves with motivated steps today; soto is more conservative with his energy, and trails at a distance.

She had been trained a bit, but not so perfectly that she knew when she was being essentially hunted. 

She placed her face in the sun. Sea green gaze intent upon the higher peak. She could smell the water and knew the view would be worth it.

Her shoulders and legs burned. Her breath was a raspy pant as she moved. But she pressed the envelope. She'd meet her goal, today.

onwards. 

soto curses the heavy hand of the sun, his lost vestiges of youth, and the uphill climb. the girl pushes on tireless. 

he wonders where she will take him, what thoughts are in her head, her hopes and her doubts. chamaca, he smiles to himself as he steps over a root. 

ahead, wind carries the promise of water.

She continued forward. Tired and spent,but exhilarated, excited.

When she finally found her way to the top. She lifted downy muzzle to the sky and howled her triumphant to the gods. She had done it.

She finished her small exhilaration and quickly nosed towards the water. The bright color stopping her short. But it smelled okay so she tasted a small drip to see if the taste was fine.

for a moment she disappears out of view. soto's heart skips - he might lose her. but it would be worse if he follows -- for the plains open up in a way too revealing for his preference.

a howl -- her howl -- rises up into the summer clouds. a pair of grouse cackle in response. soto lets the silence collect.

an opportunity too perfect to ignore. his own song fills the air in rejoinder, wondering if she will answer his call or find joy in his face.

Safiya drank her fill. Though she was mindful not to guzzle. That would make her sick.

A resounding return howl. She lifted downy head. Ears erect, looking. It had a familiar quality, but she knew she hadn't heard it before.

A soft hush and she followed it as it rang away. Sea eyes fitted from stone to stone finally following on the man Soto. Her father's worry was in her mind. But what could this man do to her? He had been nothing but nice.

She wagged her tail and trotted to meet him.

he waits, tense as a bow-string's line. safiya's face peers over the rise of stone -- a carnelian flower among dusty rubble.

is she mad? is she happy to see him? he holds his breath as he studies the expression of her face, the warm fluidity of her stride. her tail is loose and moving as she comes close.

soto remains rooted, his own tail at his hocks. his breath quivers as he holds still as the stones that surround him, only the flickering light of his gaze communicating his relief to be well-received.

Safiya didn't understand this man. It wasn't a bad thing. He was just different than she.

Hello Soto.

She peers at him. The stiffness of his stance. Did her father upset him that badly? She wasn't sure.

She smiled and wiggled her nose. Gathering what information she could. 

He smelled like open air. Other wolves clung to his pelt. She wondered was it family? Friends? A pack?

she says his name! his belly stirs as if a thousand fluttering butterflies have taken wing at once.

chamaca. he breathes, steadying the hitching of his throat. dewlets of water glisten on her chin; she's so young, but something about her so rare it was a marvel to be fiercely treasured.

 he motions past her, disguising the tension in his step, hoping she might oblige following him to the river.

There's that word again. She chews on it unsure what it means still. But it seemed to be what he called her.

But she knew his name. She pressed a paw to her chest. Safiya.

A tilt of an ear and she shifts. Wondering what he could teach her. Language. His language was lifting and pretty. Melodic.

She stepped beside him. Tail swinging happily. Looking around she followed his steps.

A small smile.

safiya; a name with dazzling consonants that electrified his tongue. soto continues his limping climb until they stand by the river. 

he looks to her once., almost shyly, and bends to drink the water. it passes his throat in crisp notes.

he wonders what she was doing out here, but has no way to ask. his gaze finds her tentatively, looking back to the river where a large blue heron stalks its prey in the shallows. 

he motions to it, eyes watchful.

Safiya eyed his limp and wondered if he was still hurt. His hip looked tender but not raw. Perhaps he was just the small after effects and on his way to get better.

She blinked meeting his gaze with a wolfish smile. And a wag of her tail. Language was an issue, but she could try and figure it out.

She gazes at it. From its long neck. To its dazzling Feathers.

Bonita?

Then she nods and points. Heron. She waited a bit of a minute and says it again. Heron.

She briefly wondered should she have said bird instead?

bonita, she asks. his somber expression cracks in a wide smile. bonita, he confirms. 

then she says something, motioning back to the bird. when she repeats the word again, soto’s brow folds, a new crease along his forehead as he parses her intentions. 

herón. he repeats, the word thick on his tongue. he shakes his head, pointing again at the bird which has now opened its great wings and alights upon a fallen tree by the bank’s edge. garza azúl.

He seemed kinder when he smiled. But Safiya had to be true to herself to admit she didn't know this one well. But she was unafraid as she always was. It gleamed there in her gaze. 

His language was so lyrical. She really liked it, but it was more fast paced than her common and even the arabic that she spoke with her father. She smiled. 

garza azúl.

She touched the water and wrinkled her brow how to say this one. Water. A press into it with red paw, disappeared and brought back up wet. Water.

all of these beautiful consonants and sounds, and this girl’s language comes up with the ugliest utterance for the most sacred thing in the world!

he exhales through his nose in amusement. wortor— and the word is made uglier on his tongue. he’ll stick with azúl - it’s lyrical, short, and holds the promise of salvation in its soft syllables. 

he does not forget that she may be watched. his eyes scan past her often, waiting for the stern-faced man to come. 

it is then he moves in a lope across the bank, sending the heron and the denizens of the water moving to safety. by the tall reeds he pries purple loosestrife from the water, bringing the long stem back to safiya. para tí. he growls softly, the flutter of small things moving in his chest.

Safiya thought about sharing her father's language, but that felt intrusive. That her father would find that distasteful. So she didn't say it. For in her father's language it fell and rolled like this one, with consonants and lyrics.

Safiya wrinkled her nose in her own amusement at teh way he spoke. And gave a soft huff of a small chuckle. 

She follows his gaze. She was alone out here. Probably not her best idea, but she was still young and much naive in the way of things. At least in part. 

She watched surprised as he raced away. She watched him noting that he was a runner. She wondered what had made him so fast. She herself was quick, but she was small and agile. He was larger than her. Though most were. Even the half breeds like her. 

Eyes looked upon the flower with delight as she placed a small paw to it's corner. The petal soft and warm from the sun. She bent her head to sniff at it, the purple tickling her nose, highlighting the bridge of her nose and eyes. She smiled and closed them to enjoy it. She had found a new love of flowers thanks to Machi.

he steps back as the girl inspects his gift; for a moment he feels like the courting birds of paradise of his home, posed tentatively on one leg as they await their paramour’s verdict.

light from the river dances in her eyes; so clear they call back to the sharp edges of a mountain cut from sky blue backdrop.

she closes her eyes and he takes advantage of the moment to drink in her features fully — as a drunkard might desperately sup his poison.

it is too early yet to plant the first seeds; soto moves back towards the bank, leaving the girl with her fresh cut blade of purple flowers.

Soto left her to her perusal of the plant. She made a mental note to ask both Tavina and Machi if it had any medical properties. 

She took a leaf out of Tiye's book and tucked it behind her ear. It fit snuggly. She had to bend it with a small claw. Safiya looked around and trotted towards him a ways and then looked up towards the sun. She should probably head home. The desert was dangerous at night.

She moved to get his attention. And pointed towards teh sun with her nose. Gotta go home.

while he did not understand the words she spoke, her intention was clear. and if he was to implicitly foster trust in her, he must allow her departure even if he did not wish to do so. 

he smiled to see the bend of purple encircling her ear. vaya con dios, chamaca. the croon of his words carried with a touch of endearment almost too tender to be perceived. 

he watched her go for a time; when the heron landed again he butchered it, chewing tough gristle between his teeth as he thought of all the ways in which safiya might infiltrate his life.