Two Eyes Cenote Where history and future meet

A voice cuts in from the side before the red she-wolf responds. His eyes shift, widening slightly as they behold the speaker. His whole body goes still, like so much cut black marble, as he stares. He neither blinks nor shifts his gaze as the other woman finally replies, first in a foreign language and then in cutting common.

“Odessia,” he breathes, making no effort to acknowledge the other woman now. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You have no idea how long.”

His words will probably confuse her and give their neglected cohort the wrong impression entirely. Vermouth doesn’t care. He takes a step toward the kvit female, briefly wondering if she’s just a desert mirage. But as his snout presses to her jutting chin, she feels real, solid. Vermouth croons a note of utter deference to her flawless white beauty, his entire body flowing into a bow before her.

“Please,” he murmurs, still mindless of their audience. A memory of Ayovi flits through his head, heart suddenly pounding with desperate anxiety. “Please tell me you don’t already have a husband.”