Luneshale Pass you keep sayin' that i'm nothing like my father

She asked him to wait, so he did. He planted his feet and looked over his shoulder, only turning his body when Fiamma offered an apology. He quickly shook his head as if to say it wasn’t necessary, though the heartened gleam in his eye showed his appreciation for the sentiment.

Yeah, he agreed stupidly when she reminded him of her name. I’m Bushtit, he thought to add, incidentally speaking right over her. That led him to blurt, Sorry, what? Oh, I’m not very bueno at speaking Soto’s language yet. But yeah. I mean, si. Mi nombre es Bushtit. Wait, were you even speaking…

He fell silent, flustered. His dark eyes dropped, falling to the small sprout beside Fiamma. He stared at it, still curious why she spoke to it like it was sentient. Bushtit’s cheeks warmed as he realized how foolish he must’ve sounded just now. Perhaps the seedling had more brains than him.