Lion Head Mesa borradura

soto silences the instinct to step back, despite the manner in which the yearling receives him. he's reminded of the bristling edge of cholla; menacing blades turning towards any intrusion.

the fur along the boy's spine rises, not unlike the threatening display of said opuntids.

if he were not standing on the ruined ground of his enemies, he might be pleased to hear his native tongue. yet nino reminds him that the stark white she-wolf had spoken their language -- with none of the pretty rhythm he'd come to love.

soto. he responds, turning a glittering eye over the menacing creature remaining like a golem in akashingo's collapsed kingdom. y tu? he breathes, muscles on edge as he waits for the boy to declare his affiliation.