Luneshale Pass colina

the water embraces her, and for a moment soto can see every outline of her figure.

he does not hide his interest.

she turns back to him, those doe-like eyes inviting him in. ripples of water radiate outward, pulsing from her sodden body to the bank where his paws land.

she speaks his name and his gaze meets hers for a moment; if this is an invitation, she may soon come to regret it.

he likes a very different flavor than his brother.

of all of them, he has yet to take a woman in the shale. he’s practicing an ascetic’s life — it’s green and nothing else. green is his woman, his labor, his fruit, his messiah. he never partakes, but he cultivates and reaps what he sows.

he wonders if the jaguar knows his newest conquest now lingers in front of his brother’s hungry eye. soto wants to see how far he can take it.

he takes one step into the water. another. his stomach tucks from the cold.

he holds her gaze as he comes in, crowding her space to see what she might make of his uninvited presence.