Sly Fox Sand Dunes skull and crossbones

for @Fiamma

he is trotting forth, deft paws carrying him with casual glides over dunes. tail raised in a high, confident arc above his pelvis; golden glare glittering with the heat of the brazen sun above. he is urged onwards from what he had learned; urged by the knowledge that soto would enjoy this information.

or maybe not, and castel had pegged him wrong. not that he had pegged him at all—which he would arguably enjoy—

it is not until the scent of verapaz lingers on the arrid sky that anything intrigues him. most of all, why he smells verapaz this far east. there is many options, but the appearance of a woman on a distant dune allows him to single onto one: soto had sent someone after him! soto did not trust him.

he scoffs, then his teeth click, and he tsks. forwards he goes, ever closer to the woman, before he embellishes a loud bark in her direction, announcing that he not only sees her, but he's coming in for a landing. his strides picking up with speed before he is ascending the dune she stands upon.

oi, he chimes. ¿qué deseas?

had soto sent her to check up on the traveling castel? sure. had she any intention of heckling him upon his quest, like a dogged parent at their wayward child's heels?

not in the slightest.

so it was to her amusement, surprise, and slight affront that he came in hot, sending the sand flying upon his abrupt stop and barking words her way. she caught che, at least, and furrowed her brow.

excuse me? fiamma asked, though there was no real question in her tone, only reproach. she lifted her chin and met his gimlet stare with one of her own. soto sent me. wanted to make sure you were well.

she turned with a roll of her glacier-cold eyes, adding, clearly, you're fine.

ah, so she’s got fire.

the implication needles him more than he’d like. soto had sent her to check up on him? to babysit him? his lips twitch into a grin, but there’s nothing warm about it.

his tail sways once, high. qué generoso de soto mandar una niñera.

he takes a step forward, closing the gap between them slightly, but his posture remains casual—tail still lifted, ears angling lazily toward her. well, niñera, what now? you gonna hold my paw all the way back to verapaz?

her ear swiveled backward, catching his words. generoso; he was being sarcastic. only when he switched to common tongue and his meaning was clear did she stop and look at him with a gritted-teeth smile.

if you want, fiamma replied, her brows lifting. i don't really want to, amico.

she sighed and went on, though she tried to keep him in her periphery. sto andando a casa, she drawled, shrugging. andiamo.

he should not trifle with her. her heat had been one thing; post-fertility, she found herself on edge and reactive.