Starglow Basin bruja,

it’s one of those lean nights where the quiet swallows everything and the world seems steeped in the gospel of some earlier epoch; where time has perhaps not galloped ahead so long, and the rise of life was still in its first nascent breath. 

a howl; soto turns from lookout point and down towards the sloping plains. the moon here so threadbare his feeble shadow dances before him. 

he finds saya with company. his gaze turns to the slumped shape below her, noting the glitter of pride in saya’s gaze. la bruja? he confirms, studying the lithe form of their captor and noting not for the first time that this coven of women seemed to spring all from the same clade; as if there were an archetype they must follow before they took the first harrowing step to becoming witch.