Starglow Basin i really tried to stay cool

much like his mercury pelted companion, soto senses war here.

he studies the shadows, breathes in the malice of this place.

but he senses the promise too.

in his homeland the earth is very dry. animals and plants alike scratch a meager subsistence there. it is said that the first plant to grow in that arid place did so in the shade of great violence. blood -- not water -- brought life to that inhospitable place, nourishing the deprived earth with decomposition and rich new minerals.

he moves towards the swale where he and nino laid their first garden.

it is covered in snow now, the frost killing off their stores. soto looks at it, a tic pulsing in his jaw.

glancing to fiamma, he sees she is looking at him openly; does she see? does she see who he really is?

esta muerto. soto announces, dashing one rotted stalk. he moves along the rows, searching in vain hope for one that was sheltered just enough winter's insidious touch did not kill it.