Lion Head Mesa the man that was used up

His first instinct was to ignore his sister's summons.

Last time, he had heeded her. Last time, she had sunk her fangs into his flesh in a battle that ought only have been posturing and boasting, forcing him to not only fight back, but exile her. Avicus had shown a side of herself to her brother that up until then, he had only suspected. Her voice did not hold the same fire this time, but why should he waste even a second of his time on a blood traitor who wished him dead?

It was Astara's face in his mind's eye that convinced him otherwise. Like Avicus, Aventus knew their fighting had hurt their poor mother. She would want them united now. He could never trust Avicus again, but if he was to prove himself worthy of his rank still, the least he could do was hear her out.

His eyes roved the rising ground ahead and found her sitting there, silhouetted against the higher rises of the mesa. Those same eyes were flinty and wary as he drew as near as he dared, leaving a little over ten feet between them. Enough space to react if she bared her fangs at him again, as he wholly expected her to do. For Avicus, Aventus spared no benefit.

He watched her, flicked his tail once, but said nothing.