Storm Watch Butte A little party never killed nobody.

a cold wind scoured the plains, whipping sand into soto’s face as he searched fruitlessly for sangre.

it was unlikely she just up and left. soto confronted the uncomfortable idea that akashingo had infiltrated him once again; but where and how?

the wind carried a different scent now — that of the amazon who slipped between his teeth just weeks before.

soto tracked her down, surprised — but not disappointed — to see her in the company of a young male. they were speaking, gesturing in that odd fashion he’d come to expect of her — but whatever they said was entirely lost upon the segundo as he came close.