Haunted Wood mountains that are stacked with fear

The smaller sidles over to the great bear of a wolf and thanks him. Fucking thanks him. For a minute, Santi doesn’t know what to say or really how to feel. He understands everyone needs someone, but he’s never had that someone. He’s getting soft. He’d laugh in the face of those who’re weak, but he just assumes it’s him getting softer with age. Or so he hopes.

Again Santi wonders what to say before finally settling on a simple, rolling “You’re welcome, cariño.” He even dares to return the words accompanied by a gentle smile, embarrassingly out of character. Even as he says these things so sweetly to the other his twin moons stare at the blood leaking from his wound devilishly. 

The other moves onto his next sentence too fast and Santi snaps his eyes back to the big ol’ red ones gazing hopefully back up to him. How sweet. Then he remembers vaguely hearing the word fuck come from the boy and he marks it down as one of the first times he’s heard the other curse. Unless he just doesn’t remember when he did it before. 

It causes him to chuckle, the laugh reaching his eyes genuinely. “Amigo,” he starts dramatically. “I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. And you have to deal with me.” He says to lighten up the mood, even though he’s moderately serious. The boy seems to enjoy his company so he’s sure he wouldn’t even want an apology. “And fuck, look at you; using your big boy words ‘n’ shit.” He laughs even harder.

After his light laugher dies down, he shakes his head, that same smile back on his maw. “Let’s head back.” He murmurs as he turns to lead the path back to the grotto.