Two Eyes Cenote Where history and future meet

He stares dully at the rattlesnake curled on a nearby rock, his tongue lolling from his mouth in a pant. He’d enjoyed the lowlands these past few weeks, but now the temperatures are on the rise and it no longer suits him. He craves a cooler climate, so he points his svart toes north and begins plodding.

The scent of water threads into his nose and he aims for it, his gait unhurried lest he overheat as the sun’s rays beat against his back. He pauses when he sees another snake, some nonvenomous species this time. Vermouth barely catches a glimpse before it whips beneath some stones. He smacks his dry lips and keeps moving.

He sees a figure ahead and halts again, studying it—her—from a distance. She’s petite, yet he can see the lean muscles even from afar. Her red fur reminds him of the clay he’s seen all around this southerly region. His head rears back a little when he notices she has only a single eye, the same bright green as the grass he misses so much.

“Hello,” he offers as he sidles toward her, his pale eyes glancing past her to the sunken waterholes. Curious. “I’m Viper,” he says, gaze cutting back to the lissome she-wolf.

He ignores the pinch in his belly when her bolts of reddest fur remind him of a certain someone’s face.