Rosewater Oasis i'm just a realist, friend

wanted to reference this <3 tag for ref or joining!

colt jerked awake, sitting stark straight with trembling mouth. he glanced quickly back the way @Lynceus and he had come, then put head to paws.
something wasn't right, something had —
colt hauled himself up with a grunt, feeling anxiety ground down into anger, to not know, and yet be so affected. without waiting, he stalked off in the direction of palms which waved in early grey dawn, hoping for a drink and a clearer mind once he had arrived.

The keen-eyed coywolf could spot a thirsty wanderer even when the horizon was drenched in mirage. For all the ambition he had, he had little to show for it aside from the few tumbled gems he had stashed in a vulture's nest. Given the Oasis was haunted only by himself and Widower, there was no reason yet to be a gatekeeper when faced by lone wanderers. The water persisted; he saw no need to be a jealous guardian especially when he hadn't enough blood to shed for it. 

The wolf looked less desperate than most, didn't drag his feet and while he seemed to hang his low as he walked, he appeared more lost in thought than anything. 

The coywolf had been laying near the pool's edge but sat up as the stranger came close enough for Tumbleweed to catch his eye colour. He didn't speak out, musing to himself perhaps that the loner had more important things on his mind than chatting with a stranger.

water gulped into a belly just beginning to stir with hunger, colt side-eyed the coyote in the water. he'd killed his share of them, of course, anyone had. but he'd known more than a few to run with the gang, even half-yotes. they were often the slickest killers and fiercest rogues.
among the others, briggs might have run this one off. but his feral cunning did not come from ignorance. the desert belonged to coyotes. he cleared his throat. "this here's yer patch then, friend?"
some talked. others didn't. briggs waited to see what was what.

What Tumbleweed saw was a worn traveller, revealed through the softened sound of roughened pawpads, blunted claws, and patches of fur that revealed scarring with the flex and pull of hardened muscle. He looked like the sort who could settle a dispute with a twitch of his lips, and yet a truce was volunteered as he drank. Tumbleweed invested trust in strangers, often; he found that if it was offered first, it was often returned. 

His head dropped, and he laughed quietly, breath feathering the beige fur of his chest. He shook his head, and looked up, one eyebrow arched. "Only in fantasies, it seems," He said. He had plans, and ambitions, but few had shaken out into something tangible. "Might surprise you, but I don't get a lot of visitors, and even fewer stick around once they've taken what they've come for."

colt knew a snake when he saw one. well-traveled, thousand-yard squint effect. the coyote at the edge of the pool could be a bounty hunter for all colt knew. 
he saw also the rambling, long build that was his own; he saw the emptiness of the oasis and tried to pretend he could analyze that tone.
"so go get em," briggs volunteered in a grunt, slumping down onto weary haunches. he cracked a couple of fleas with his molarteeth and then glanced toward the coyote. "yew gotta make this place somethin' they want. somethin' they need." that was one way, he supposed.

The man gave him some unsolicited advice that sounded more like an inspirational pep-talk from the naive. Not something he'd expect from someone as travel-worn as the man before him. Tumbleweed had considered many different means of forming a pack, but he knew until he had at least one or two who could actually guard the place, recruiting would only be for those who came near, like flies approaching the spider's web. 

And even then, the web remained relatively harmless, with only himself and Widower to watch over it. 

"Is that your technique?" He asked the lone man, with a squint of his eyes. As far as Widower could see, there were no others following him through the mirage.

have decided to end colts story here, so sorry to end this so fast but i dont have muse for him! <3

the red eyes hardened a bit in the way of an ember, biting back toward coals. "i ain't got one." surely from one look at him, someone could know he wasn't made for any of it. and it was a source of bitterness for colt, to know that reno and sadey and even indra could keep a gang together.
"naw," briggs drawled, "i stay a bit then move on through, unless somethin' holds me back." tone appraising now, nudging; what did the coyote have that might pique a rogue's fancy?