Storm Watch Butte A little party never killed nobody.

They explored along the foot of a soaring butte this morning, though Towhee’s mind wandered further than her feet. The lowlands reminded her of her days in Mereo, which made her think longingly of the stone hut she’d shared with Maxim and their kids. Fond memories of #1A soon led to a proper foray down memory lane, where she walked to the palazzo and chatted with Germanicus and Ruenna. Aquene and Kallik drifted in the background.

Bushtit’s face in her face made Towhee’s head rear back as she blinked. She collected herself, cleared her throat and tossed him a sheepish smile. Towhee looked around and realized they’d wandered just west of the rocky ramparts now. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized they were nearing the basin.

-You know how you love the Hobbit Hole? There’s another place I’d like to show you, whenever we’re done here,- Towhee signed. -Have I ever told you about Mereo? A couple of your older sisters spent time with me there, including the one who lives there now,- she said, pointing her muzzle toward the distant borders of Verapaz.

-No! What? Who?- Bushtit demanded, dancing on his pale toes. -Can we go there and see her?- he added before she could respond, glancing eagerly in that direction before his pleading eyes met hers.

a cold wind scoured the plains, whipping sand into soto’s face as he searched fruitlessly for sangre.

it was unlikely she just up and left. soto confronted the uncomfortable idea that akashingo had infiltrated him once again; but where and how?

the wind carried a different scent now — that of the amazon who slipped between his teeth just weeks before.

soto tracked her down, surprised — but not disappointed — to see her in the company of a young male. they were speaking, gesturing in that odd fashion he’d come to expect of her — but whatever they said was entirely lost upon the segundo as he came close.

She didn’t make an immediate reply. Instead, she evaded her son’s beseeching gaze and squinted toward the basin. Tierra had told her Soto was harsh, but he’d also saved her life. Besides that, Towhee had the hots for him. And he was Bushtit’s father, whatever she thought about it. She swallowed a sigh and shook her head lightly, only to freeze an instant later when a figure appeared in the middle distance.

Now her eyes widened. What were the odds? She gaped at Soto for a beat, then her head snapped toward Bushtit. She gawked at her child, mentally scrambling. Should she tell him? By “him,” she wasn’t sure if she meant Soto or her son. Probably both.

She licked her lips, shuffling to stand closer to the pup as he noticed the approaching figure. Towhee felt the tension in his legs as he prepared to either move or perhaps sign something. She shook her head lightly at him, giving him a look. He immediately understood and fell silent and motionless.

Soto, she called out to him when he was presumably within earshot. We’re here to see Tierra, Towhee informed him, thinking it would be really handy to have the translator here right now. You know, Tierra? My daughter? The one who… fuck, this is…

Towhee stared at Soto, trying to ignore her mounting sexual frustration even as electricity arced through her veins.

they share a look. soto cannot help but notice the way the young boy presses to the flank of the amazon. the single gesture is enough to solidify soto's suspicion their liaison in the trees had produced plenty of fruit.

he stops advancing. the way they crowded each other spoke of tension soto did not wish to test. studying the boy, his gaze turns to towhee when she speaks again -- only one word out of the string of them decipherable.

tierra. sangre's name, soto knows. his gaze is hopeful: does she know where tierra has gone?

ears forward, soto speaks. donde esta ella? sangre -- tierra. la has visto?

The name evoked recognition, at least. Soto said something, his inflection heard only by the silent boy at her side. Neither one of them could understand a single word he said.

Towhee looked at her son, desperate for a translation. He only looked back in confusion. Then his face scrunched. She kept staring, watching as he appeared to work out something in his head.

-Think he said “visitor.” Maybe he’s asking if we’re here to visit her?-

Yes! she exclaimed, eyes darting back to Soto. We’re here to visit Tierra. Can you take us to her? Or can you call for her, at least?

Without being aware of it, Towhee shuffled a few paces closer. She only realized when she felt Bushtit brushing against her. She glanced at him, then looked at Soto again, the closer proximity affording her a more comprehensive view of his facial expressions and body language.

She could also smell him much better now, his masculine scent threading into her nose and stirring strong memories of their tryst. It had been so delightful and it had given her one of life’s greatest gifts: a child.

She’d seen the way he’d looked at Bushtit, just like “Ditty” had during their visit to the plateau. Only this man was, without a doubt, his father. Did he guess as much? Did he care? If she tried to tell him, would he even understand?

as it turns out, confusion is a universal language.

soto hangs back, impatient -- their shared glances have him on edge.

he is about to speak again when the amazon emphatically says 'yes'! this word soto knows, and his hopeful expression lights up into one of triumph. yes! she has seen sangre and any second now she will show him where she has gone.

but she does the opposite. rather than lead him away, she expectantly presses close. this is not what people traditionally do when they possess the whereabouts of a missing person; it's soto's turn to be dumbfounded.

this makes no sense. soto stares between the two of them, working out how on earth he can convey that sangre is missing.

the cogs turn for at least a minute before soto speaks again. his expression conveys as sense of frustration as he thumbs at them both and stands up, turning around to verapaz.

several steps in he stops and jerks his head: follow me.

Soto looked nonplussed for a few beats, though he eventually motioned for them to follow. Sensing a breakthrough, Towhee exhaled a sigh of relief and nodded, cocking her head at Bushtit to encourage him to follow closely beside her.

He led them further west, toward the basin. Towhee kept her eyes peeled for any sign of her daughter. Her other senses tuned in too, the mother staying on high alert as they prepared to traverse Verapaz’s borderline.

the trio carved a westward path through the cold footing. soto turned once or twice to ensure they were following; confident in their ability to match pace, his stride opened up as they came to the basin. 

he sent one howl skyward, the thinness of the air absorbing the sound with greedy silence. 

they were upon the stone quarter in short order. as the lookout point loomed into stony view soto slowed his steps, motioning for towhee and her young charge to follow close. 

they climbed the shale steps that wound lookout’s face, and came upon a flattened segment of ground used as their guard station. along one grey wall were peltskins, soto’s easily distinguishable from the bunch by the still-fresh scent of his body sleeping upon them that morning. but sangre’s, a collection of far lovelier deerskin pelts soto had carefully segmented himself, was all but faded in scent. 

he placed a paw upon the skin and nudged it towards the amazon, single eye dark with worry.

When they neared the basin, Soto tossed back his head. Towhee couldn’t hear the howl that poured forth from his muzzle, though she knew exactly what that motion meant. Her eyes eagerly scanned their surroundings as the ground became harder underfoot, missing Soto’s signal. It wasn’t until she bumped into him that she realized he’d slowed.

My bad, she muttered, backing off him with a twinge of reluctance.

She said nothing else—why brother?—but looked at their guide closely before exchanging a glance with Bushtit. They shadowed Soto’s steps as he began to mount a sort of natural staircase, which led them to what seemed to be a lookout point. Towhee stopped and took in the views, orange eyes still seeking Tierra’s familiar figure.

Something nudged her and Towhee’s eyes dropped to her son’s face. He motioned at Soto, who was trying to show and/or tell them something. She watched as he put a paw on a pelt, quite clearly wanting to show it to her. Face contorting, she stepped nearer and sniffed at it, picking up scanty traces of Tierra’s scent.

Where is she? Towhee demanded, patience thinning and frustration thickening. Can’t you at least call someone else out here to translate for us? she tacked on with a tetchy jerk of a foreleg.

She knew the futility of asking that question even as the words left her lips. Towhee bit back the urge to scream and instead poured that energy into a dissonant howl demanding to know if there was anyone bilingual in earshot.

the amazon was not the only soul feeling her patience wane. the hope in soto's eyes extinguish as she throws back her head in a howl meant to summon anyone else; the power and dissonance of which causes soto's ears to pull back in a flinch.

he looks to the boy, then back to the pelt. grabbing it between his teeth he thrusts it at their feet, motioning with a paw the now faded scent lingering along one edge of soft skin.

then he shrugs; for if they cannot understand one another, they cannot progress.

They had no choice but to wait and see if anyone would respond to their summons. In the meantime, Towhee watched as Soto impatiently grabbed the pelt and thrust it at their feet. Rude, she thought, though there was no real heat to it. They were both in the same predicament.

Before she could think of anything to do or say, Bushtit took the opportunity to sniff at the proffered skin, then step onto it. He circled thrice, then sprawled on it. Towhee didn’t hear the sigh, though she saw it. Her head cocked in mild amusement as his eyes visibly drooped.

She glanced at Soto, wondering what he might be thinking. A realization crept into her own thoughts, her orange eyes growing speculative. Towhee only looked away to check on Bushtit—conked out, now—before her gaze fixed on the man’s features.

-He’s your son, you know,- she told him, well aware that he wouldn’t understand the Ptero. Stepping nearer, she hisspered the exact same phrase into his ear, knowing he wouldn’t understand a word of that either.

verapaz's ranks ebbed and waned with time—yet fiamma remained. she did not know what kept her locked into this place and these wolves. only that she found a delightful puzzle in the enigmatic soto, and a potential paramour in silver-tongued osiel.

it was the former she trailed today, though at a distance. his scent cut upward, out of the basin, and she followed it idly. the erstwhile princess was examining a sunbathing lizard when a howl burst through the air, startling the creature into the shadows and sending her hackles up. it was soto's—and the sound came from verapaz's hearth.

from a distance, fiamma observed him in conversation with a well-muscled woman, her brawny figure cloaked in shades of fire and coals. a young man, too, paler than the others. she saw the woman lift her muzzle and call out, too—an earsplitting noise.

intrigued, she slipped up the makeshift staircase and met them with a chuff, turning her silver eyes to the she-wolf in query.

welcome. i am fiamma, she introduced herself with a pleasant smile. she cast a sidelong glance at soto, one ear tilting to catch his reply. chi? fiamma asked, nodding toward the strangers.

he doesn't know what he expects. it is not as if signaling could suddenly break the barrier between them. as the hide falls to the floor, exasperation rounds his shoulders.

the boy moves atop the peltskin. hopeful he might connect the bridging between them, soto leans in - his hope transfiguring into incredulity as he watches the boy sigh and -- sleep?

he cannot fault youth for their promptness in attending compelling needs.

now they must wait; he allows his eye to drag over towhee and recall their tryst -- which he had enjoyed thoroughly -- while they waited. she signed something, and then leaned close to whisper something, but once again both languages may well have been ancient runes to soto.

fiamma. soto rises immediately, motioning to the duo next to him as fiamma tilted an ear in inquiry. les pregunté dónde está la sangre. he paused, looking back at the boy curled in sangre's velveteen bed-furs. no sé lo que dicen.