Two Eyes Cenote víscera

why?

it is the crooked question he cannot make sense of. the answer which will not lay straight among the neatly ordered facts of his life:
danger existed here. he had been tortured here. hurt. and now that danger is gone.

he walks their halls alone. down past the stone-clad centre, past where once caches had been topped rich with spoils.

only ghosts here; juarez and nino silent as he and his shadow flit from place to place.

not even their scent remains, and as he lifts his head from inspecting an overturned tortoise shell, soto wonders: dare he return to the pit?

for @Bushtit or towhee or both! <3

The valleys didn’t capture Bushtit’s attention for long. He opted to lead them back west a ways. Towhee didn’t complain, even though her leg never stopped aching. She only put weight on it every few steps, which helped, but she swore the atrophy was getting worse for it. She wondered if it would eventually shrivel up and fall off. What a wild thought

Oh, I know where we are, Towhee said as they approached the cenote. The last time I was here—several of your lifetimes ago—I went cliff diving with a coyote. No shit. I bet you’ll wanna jump too, when you see it.

Indeed, Bushtit took a moment to survey the drop into the pool below, then backed up a few steps and made a run for it. Towhee laughed as she watched him arc into the air, then disappear from sight. She hastened to the ledge, though she didn’t manage to catch his splash. She watched as he resurfaced and paddled toward the pool’s edge.

Good thing I gave you swimming lessons, huh? she called down to him. Wait there, I’m coming down too, she added, not bothering to shuffle backward before simply hopping into the open space.

She gasped when she kicked back to the surface, letting out a little laugh as she swam to join Bushtit. As she pulled herself out of the roiling water, a familiar scent threaded into her nose. It was unmistakable, especially down here where the air was so damp.

-Smell that?- she said, shooting Bushtit a quizzical look.

Nodding, he signed, -Dad.-

a loud sound reverberated through the serenely quiet -- almost eerie -- chambers. a cannonball splatter, followed at length by a second one -- and then shortly after the garbled sounds of indecipherable voices.

soto glanced up from the abandoned shell, immediately shirking to the edge of the wall.

heart hammering in his chest he edges round the mud-daubed walls until at last he came to --

bushtit and the amazon, splashing in the water below.

the blood still pounding in his ears, soto looks down on them both -- incredulous they had nary a care in the very territory his life had nearly been stripped from him.

She hoisted herself onto all fours, then gave herself a good shake. She didn’t hear Bushtit’s protest, though she saw it and grinned. But karma came for her when he mimicked her a couple seconds later, splattering Towhee right in the face.

Why, you little, she sneered, threatening him with a shaking fist before busting up laughing. Do you know wh—

Movement caught her eye and she saw Soto’s familiar face drifting toward them out of one of the dark hallways. He had an inscrutable look on his face, though that wasn’t unusual. Towhee did another little shake as the boy greeted his father with a wave.

What brings you here? she asked.

She shivered a little. The lowlands were a bit warmer than the more northern territories, yet it was still winter. Why had she thought swimming was a good idea? Towhee glanced at Bushtit and saw his teeth chattering. She felt like a total heel.

Prodding Bushtit toward Soto, she said, He’s cold. Maybe you can warm him up a little?

-“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,”- the youngster said as he took a tentative step. -“Mom, I don’t think he’s gonna know what we’re trying to say…”-

He doesn’t have to speak our language to see that you’re a shivering child, Towhee said, locking eyes with Soto and willing him to get it.

they clamber the banks with grins on their faces, shaking the moonpool's water from their fur. the smiles fall abruptly as both see him - first the amazon, then the boy.

soto looks around him: did they not know they walked the halls of enemies?

restraining his tongue, soto's gaze falls to the boy caught with cold.

no es seguro. soto hisses, posture low as he motions to them both. missing his cue to warm the boy entirely, soto points to the various states of decay around them that indicate, at one point, these halls were alive with souls.

the broken shards of turtle shell. the smooth footstones polished by hundreds of feet. the stale waft of ancient caches. he drinks in these scents deeply, one eye turning to them both to urge them to use their senses.

She frowned at the familiar word. Maybe he didn’t actually mean, no, I won’t help, though that’s how Towhee took it. Her eyes narrowed as she thrust a paw against her son’s shoulder. She motioned him back toward her, wrapping her forelegs around him and pulling his shivering body to her own.

Sorry, kiddo, I wasn’t thinking, she muttered in his ear, ignoring Soto entirely other than a final scowl over Bushtit’s head. A little friction should help, she added, starting to rub her paws up and down his shoulders.

-“I think he wants us,”- Bushtit tried to say, although it was hard to sign while being rubbed down, -“to look around? Maybe? He’s pointing at things. Mom, stop for a second.”-

He slid out of her grasp despite a token protest, his expression attentive as he looked around the grotto. Towhee wrapped her forelegs around herself now and did the same, orange eyes flitting over what appeared to be artifacts of habitation. She shrugged, not knowing what they meant and not particularly caring.

The only thing Towhee found herself wondering, suddenly, was how S’ari was doing these days.

whatever the amazon thinks he's said, she looks displeased as she dries off her paler counterpart.

soto reaches for the shell. in an exasperated motion he sniffs it, inhaling so deep the dust tickles his nose. fighting back a fit of coughing he points to the smooth stone again, and then to his eye.

and then, because he sees bushtit is watching him with that corvid-like intensity soto's come to appreciate, soto brings his paw to his good eye again in a pantomime of searching.

bringing his paws to his lips, soto's ears flatten as he makes the gesture for quiet.

-“You’re looking for something,”- Bushtit guessed, bright-eyed and indeed bushy-tailed despite the chilly dampness.

His own ears pinned when Soto gestured for quiet. Had he just spoken Ptero? No, he supposed that sign was rather commonplace. In any case, the youth pressed his lips together—this muted the chattering of his teeth—and nodded to show he understood. His eyes drifted sideways to Towhee as he mimicked his dad’s signal.

Now his dark gaze returned to the man, curious why they were being hushed.

he looks to them both to confirm understanding. the boy's teeth press together, suppressing a series of chatters.

for a moment he stands stock still, listening.

water trickles around them. somewhere the soft sigh of a subterranean breeze.

he cannot read the amazon's expression, but in gentle steps he moves past them and motions once -- in the very gesture he has seen mother sometimes do to son -- to follow.

their path spills down past the cenote and into tunnels that thread their way like veins through the cave system.

Soto appeared now to listen, so Bushtit mimicked him. His ears swiveled, picking up the subtle sounds of dripping water and a distant creaking he could not identify. Was Soto listening for a particular sound, he wondered?

When his mother nudged him, he signed, -We’re listening. There aren’t many noises, though. I don’t…-

The Segundo moved, stepping toward them, then past. It wasn’t the first time he’d gestured for them to follow. Bushtit bounded onto his feet, exchanging a quick look with Towhee. She looked annoyed but jerked her head to indicate he should go ahead.

Soto led them toward a tunnel. They hadn’t gone more than a few steps before a loud noise from behind him stalled the boy. Bushtit looked over his shoulder at his mother.

-“I don’t like this. It would be way too easy to get lost down here. I don’t want to go any further and I don’t want you to go, either,”- Towhee said, sliding backward a step.

Bushtit froze, finding himself thrust into a predicament. He wanted to go with Soto, yet he didn’t want to leave behind his mom. If he made the puppy eyes, could he convince her? Perhaps that was a thing of the past, because he unleashed them and Towhee only stood stock still, face stony.

behind him, the dark amazon and her paler son exchange silent gestures. soto presses on, ears tuned to every sound.

at some point he realizes the boy has not followed. looking over his shoulder, he sees the slim outline of bushtit silhouetted against the tunnel's mouth. he motions to wait and then disappears.

no sign of recent life in these abandoned halls. a chill rends his spine as he passes the dark cellar khusobek housed him in; now only the stench of rot lived on.

he turns back and climbs out the narrow tunnel with a long shake of his body. es vacio. he declares, a light dancing in his remaining eye as a new thought came to him.

venga conmigo, he barks to both of them, heading towards the outer rim where the cenote's territory spills out into dense woodland.

He loved his mom and didn’t want to go against her wishes, though if she refused to be won over by his face, then perhaps Bushtit ought to break from precedent too. But before he could shift fully into defiance mode, Soto held up a paw in the universal sign to wait.

The boy’s brow knit as he blew out a breath. He really wanted to go after Soto, though now both his parents had expressed a wish for him to stay here. Bushtit sighed, then slouched over to his mother. He hoped she was happy. He sure wasn’t.

Towhee tried to say something to him, though they were interrupted by Soto’s return. There was a strange look on his face, which Bushtit barely registered before the man ran for the exits. Despite himself, Bushtit exchanged a glance with Towhee before they both scrambled after him.

Hey! Where are we going now? he called after Soto, aware that he wouldn’t be understood.

Some woods loomed in the near distance. Soto seemed to be heading toward them. Bushtit continued to tail him, with Towhee doing her best to keep up in her son’s wake, her hop-step more pronounced than ever.

triumph housed in that wicked gold stare, soto climbs the steps out into the woodlands. 

he hears both behind him - but the amazon’s gait sounds peculiar as they head uphill. as a practiced hunter, soto listens with one ear turned back, knowing darkly what the asymmetry in the sound means. 

he brings them to the periphery of the scrubland, where the cenote’s claim exsanguinates into open air. placing his muzzle pointedly at a section of stale marking, soto gestures towards it for both bushtit and the amazon to inspect. 

he moves to another spot and scratches it with long swipes of his paws. satisfied with the markings left there, soto lifts his hind leg and unleashes a stream of acrid urine on the spot. 

he turns back to them both, motioning that they do the same. 

conveying in unequivocal terms for all who come across that this place has a presence: a presence which authoritatively snarls mine to interlopers.

Soto slowed, then stopped. Bushtit did the same, Towhee rolling to a panting halt a few feet behind him. He glanced at her, though he soon looked back to the man. He watched him closely, trying to read his face.

When Soto motioned him to sniff at something, the boy heeled. He bent to sniff, brow furrowing at the old scent marker. When he lifted his head, he turned to see what his mother thought, but she hadn’t joined them. She was still seated a few yards away.

The hiss of urine recaptured the boy’s attention. His ears stood tall as he watched Soto mark his territory. Bushtit’s head reared back when the Segundo then gave him a pointed look. He tapped his own chest as if to say, Who, me?

He didn’t know what they were doing or why, though the boy was eager to join his dad in this endeavor. He sprang to all fours and lifted his leg enthusiastically—too enthusiastically. Before he could release his bladder, he toppled over onto his hip, first with an oof sound and then with a snort of laughter at his own silliness.

His ears bent at an ugly noise somewhere behind him. Bushtit turned, letting out another sheepish laugh as Towhee brayed like an ass.