Storm Watch Butte A little party never killed nobody.

soto looks between each of them helplessly, expectantly.

the boy barely stirs but to flicker an ear. towhee says something initially loudly, but then her tone readjusts. soto glances from her to the silvery she-wolf, waiting impatiently for her to relay.

his brow works in confusion and then hope and then discouragement all at once as fiamma pieces together enough shared words for soto to understand. sangre, si. he nods excitedly, only to sag as fiamma shares that towhee has not seen her either. one word kept niggling at soto; figlia. he works it over in his head, frown growing deeper.

so, the amazon was not here to tell him where sangre was; she was looking for her too.

tierra. soto exhales his disappointment. and then to no one in particular except perhaps the chattering osiel in his brain, soto speaks again. ella estaba herida. me preocupo.