Luneshale Pass Sol

they slip into shadows as otters slip into stream; their steps measured and silent. 

grunts of their future prey filter through the peaceful noise of the woods. soto sees his brother’s gleaming eyes, tall ears — all communicating his mark. 

he swings from the brush at a gorilla’s hulking run, the distraction — his fangs hook on the fat of the pig’s mouth while his sinewy body dances just out of reach of the tusk’s revenge. 

a squeal of anger bursts from the boar. he rounds his thick shoulders and belligerent skull, lowers his head, and charges straight for soto.

hours later, they are cleaning the blood from their pelt and moving gingerly on full bellies. juárez begins marking the perimeters.

and soto sets to work in the garden.