Firestone Hot Springs garmi

from the upper reaches of arjun's glacier, he could see the plateau. just a territory separated his first home here from his latest one, and after taking a few days to rest, he'd gone to investigate.

wolf-scent was wreathed around the place, though; others had claimed it for themselves.

and why wouldn't they? sometimes, aditya wondered whether all his misfortunes had come from morningside's leaving the plateau. everything had seemed to go into a tailspin when they'd gone north.

wishful thinking, though. adi chuckled wryly to himself as he meandered among the hot springs, savoring their familiar warmth in the bitter cold. the sun was setting; its rays cast a blood-orange glow against his pelt, sparking off the many silver hairs.

wishful thinking. he, and he alone, was responsible for his fate.

ah, bewakoof, he murmured, closing his eyes as he sat, letting the steam caress his face, his chest. kuch nahin badla hai.

She had crouched in the den for three days after mama stopped talking. She would have stayed longer, spiraling deeper and deeper into frozen terror, if nino had not come and called her outside. The sun had hurt her eyes, but then she could press her face into nino's dark chest and breath in his warm, sunlight scent.

He asked her what had happened. She thought he had, anyway. His voice felt very far away.

"Ella dejó de respirar," she said. That hadn't been good enough. Nino wanted to know more but she didn't know any more than that. "No sé," she told him, and then she cried the words so that he would stop asking, and they hadn't talked much more, after that.

They left mama in the den. Nino led her a long way. ("Donde vamos? Nino?" and, "Muy lejos de aquí. Cálmate, mija.")

They went far, as nino had said. Through mountains and raging creeks. ("Nino, tengo frío," and, "Lo sé, mi amor, perdóname.)

Her legs grew long. Her ribs grew sharper. ("Qué estás buscando?" and, "Nino? ... nino?")

They were very quiet, then. A few days later, he showed her where to look for grubs in the soil.

She was still frail, stick-thin when they came to the wilds.

"Mira."

Mezcal looked. There was a dark shape coming toward them through the billowing white steam. Her fur stood on end. She crouched in nino's shadow —

And then stood ramrod straight, and then spun in a circle, breathing fast —

"Nino?" she cried,

But she was alone.

what was it about him that attracted damsels in distress?

he was flattering himself, surely. but yet, another came, stumbling through the mists, small and fragile as a seedling in spring. "nino!" she cried—

bachchi, aditya called back, and slowly closed the distance between the two of them. tiny and delicate, with eyes the color of the sky at sunrise. too thin; too alone.

kya hua? he murmured. what troubles you?

The man who answered was not her nino. He seemed older, in a way, and younger in others. And he wore something like nino did, but his was heavy and dark instead of thin and bright like the sun. She stared at him, uncomprehending, and he said something in a language she didn't understand, and then something else in the common tongue — the one nino had tried to teach her, when he still made regular visits to her and Mama's den.

He asked something. Work? Lock? Stuck? No —

"No sé," she said, as she had said to nino. "I don't know."

Her eyes were brimming over with tears, but she seemed unaware of this.

"That collar," she said, pointing to it with her nose before quickly tucking her chin once more. "Does it mean your are, um. Sacardote — " An uneasy pause before she landed on, "... a holy man?"

there was a language barrier between them; he knew that immediately. but she spoke common tongue—haltingly, but adequately—and he gave a small start at her reference to his collar.

no, adi said, somewhat ruefully. not at all. but i can help.

he tilted his head slowly, voice soft. do you have family nearby? he asked—totally unaware of how ironic the query was. do you have somewhere to stay?