Starglow Basin el espíritu verde

Los espíritus dijeron... Thiago began, his voice trailing off as he abruptly closed off. Few understood the reverence he held for such things, even when the green had clouded his thoughts. He swayed on his feet, humming a fragmented melody that reached Niño's ears, but his words were lost in a drugged haze.

Bailaré contigo, jefe, he declared, his swagger brushing too closely against Niño as if he were a mere illusion. But when he leaned in, his voice dropped to a desperate whisper. ¡Me quedé sin! ¡La medicina, oh dios, el verde! ¿La tienes, sí? ¿Está Juárez aquí? ¿Él puede hacerlo?

His breaths come in shallow, ragged gasps as he hovers near Niño, his proximity more desperate than deliberate. The sun blazes down, casting harsh light across the desert expanse, the heat making the air shimmer and distort.