Rosewater Oasis fight, little wolf, fight

they notice him. they speak. exchanging glances no language barrier could blockade.

soto sits up, wipes the dribble from his chin.

the first bristles - the second moving to stand alongside him. more words.

he notices they are identical save their eyes. one the warm color of terrestrial earth; the other the hazy blue of the sky.

irony works in strange ways.

soto moves from the bank. away from them and away from the discharging energy he can feel swarm them. they've every right to be alarmed.

for a time he disappears, but when he returns it is with a mouthful of winter-ravaged reeds and the thin heads of yarrow. their stems were opaque with winterrot, but it was to the blue-eyed brother soto slides the bundle, motioning to the injured one. por su herida.

and then he sits; a lion's coil to his muscles as he waits for one brother to treat the other.