Luneshale Pass salgado

he's right. it's not his choice.

for a long beat soto studies him. his mind is elsewhere, reliving a memory made many years ago.

juarez the jaguar stands over the hunched figure of their newest halcyon. a boy. he went by pinqullu in the camps. soto never confirmed it, but he suspected the boy came from the same province as tomillo. it was something in their eyes; an andean spirit that bid poorly for honest work.

the boy had be given a task to run green to a nearby province. he took the green, and later returned promising delivery.

three weeks later gunrunners from the south came looking for their cut. they took three of juarez' halcyons and beat them within an inch of their life. nino's skull had nearly been driven in. marciela worked day and night to save them.

juarez knew right away what to do. he always did. he found pinqullu and he knocked him around until the boy spit teeth into the clay. then he knocked him around some more.

the pool of blood grew.

people began to gather.

and soto watched the boy who had failed their brothers be drawn and quartered layer by layer.

he's pretty sure his skull sits exactly where juarez had left it, all these years later.

quiero que tomes este verde. he pointed to a patch of more mature greens ready for collections. y llevárselos a las manadas en el continente. un regalo.