Bramblepoint caught herself a somewhere wind

it would wound soto's pride to know alivia believed they fled; he would use noble language such as 'discretion is the better part of valor'. you know, better to avoid this one and die another day kind of thing.

his lope slows as they round the bend and the moose fades from view and audible detection. soto's ear flicks as she speaks, understanding no vamos to mean -- what, she didn't want to go?

he switches gait abruptly, wheeling to look at her face in full. was she seriously suggesting they go back to the moose? a dart of pink tongue slides across his teeth as he considers this, gaze flicking towards where they'd seen the moose last.

es peligroso. he warns, deciding she can hunt it if she wants, but he'd have no part of it. in a different life he'd come across a sickening scent like that before, though the memory filled him with a strange species of shame. a wolf -- his age or perhaps a little younger -- had come to a cenote to drink. he recalled the horror that chilled his blood to watch as the wolf supped and supped again, yet could not force the water past his teeth. 

soto had turned and ran; fled, if you will. and that was exactly why he was here today, standing handsomely before alivia. come. the word is rough on his tongue as he moves off in a trot to search for something less diseased to sink his teeth into.