Starglow Basin bathroom attendant let me right in - she was a big fan

the boy was gone, spirited away by his own kind. and perhaps it was for the best.

but his guardian had suffered mightily for it, and the cartel remained tense since his disappearance. for her part, fiamma prowled at the perimeter, watching for strangers. there was only so much one could do, however, before boredom set in.

eventually, her restlessness brought her to @Osiel and @Soto.

put me to work, fiamma begged. dovere. she licked dry lips and added, what do we need? let me help.

their language barrier was steadily eroding, soon to crumble altogether. once it did, she would take full advantage. she knew that they needed warriors, soldiers, guardians. . .spies?

per favore, she insisted, smiling at ocho in particular.

soto misses his garden in luneshale. he and niño had tilled that; now it goes to ruin. 

he’s sat next to ocho when fiamma arrives, determination minting her stern gaze. 

he looks to osiel, waiting patiently for relay.

"Ella quiere un trabajo," Osiel translates, coming to stand in line with Segundo.

Fiamma. He admired her tenacity, as much as he was dissuaded by it. A woman of her breeding, of her fine stature, she should be denning in the winter, and preparing for her time. The ocelot did not desire her to work beyond building fat and muscle for children. This was relayed as much, in spanish and english.

“If I send you out, you go into heat. You will draw men upon you.” But they needed a new face to fetch what was left of the project in Luneshale. Ocho’s gaze drew from the woman to Soto, wondering if he saw the same potential in Fiamma.

“Someone is needed to deliver seeds from the pass. A day's journey north from here,” he begins, eyes appraising.

soto did not reply. not a surprise, with the language barrier between them. ocho translated, and when he switched to common tongue, her icy eyes lit upon him with some surprise and disdain. haughty, she lifted her chin, surveying him with a cool glance.

not necessarily so, fiamma replied. i will go, quickly. do the duty. and be back well before my heat.

was she underestimated, because she was a woman? she thought so, but bit her tongue against the thought. where will i go, signore? she asked.

soto’s thoughts fell close to osiel’s though once a woman had made him pay dearly for his underestimation of their gender. 

he wonders if fiamma’s determination was the same fire that fueled marciela. this earns her the cutting inspection of his single remaining eye. 

he grunts, motioning towards the distant brim of the pass. osiel relays the conversation, giving soto some pause before he makes up his mind. 

iré contigo. he declares, looking to osiel to see if he’d object to his segundo traversing the desert.

“Soto will bring you,” he relays to Fiamma, the black crown lifting in satisfaction. Segundo to guard their silver falcon woman—

But it put the leopard’s notoriety at risk to send him out to where his deeds were done. Where his face was known. Tensing muscles played in the jaw, Osiel met the singular staunch eye with his own hardened gaze.

“Cuidadoso,” to the man he whispered. It was not a hope. It was a command. Verapaz needed him; Osiel did.

the words they shared between them did not register to her. all that mattered was that osiel relented, letting her take on this mission. with soto by her side, mind. . .but she had still received permission. and that meant much.

grazie, signore, fiamma told their head. she bowed low, then rose again, smiling softly, icy gaze warming upon osiel's face. i will not let you down, osiel.

she turned to soto, and then back to ocho, brows lifting in query. when do we depart? the moment could not come soon enough—especially given the men worried about her heat. would come in spring; winter was only just now coming—

but perhaps they did not understand the intricacies of a woman's cycle.

she would not endeavor to educate them on the subject.

last from me <3

the ocelot's eyes held a quiet knowing. soto glanced towards the silvered she-wolf, noting the determination hardening her features.

cuidadoso, commanded osiel. soto's dark crown bobbed in answer.

to the woman, who spoke now between them both -- soto's gaze flickered to osiel and back, knowing already what she asked for it was writ as clear as daylight across her face.

tomorrow. mañana. soto answers, needing his affairs tended to tonight before the long pilgrimage to luneshale. to them both he delivered a final glance before slouching towards the trickling cisterns he and fiamma made the week before.

The last glance he allowed over Fiamma was long; meandering. It conveyed a wealth of things; least not his desire for her safe return. The same hot blood stoked within Soto. He would understand the importance of such a task. The green– and Fiamma.

“Buon viaggio, bellezza,” he smirked and turned shoulder. This was her chosen pursuit.

There was a land to turn before the green could be planted.