Luneshale Pass It’s time to kill the lights and shut the DJ down.

While her two youngest children fretted about her many miles to the east, Towhee sidled along the stream winding from Serpent Lake down into the lowlands. She shuffled more than walked, pausing frequently to dip her leg into the icy water for some relief. She occasionally worried about her continued deterioration, though mostly Towhee wondered about Bushtit’s whereabouts.

She finally approached the edge of Luneshale Pass, where the stream trickled down to nearly nothing. Towhee rolled to a stop with a sigh. She wanted to sink to the ground, curl into a ball and sleep until spring. Maybe she would do that, just as soon as she made sure her son was alright.

Hell, she said to no one, taking a single step and catching @Soto’s scent. Maybe I’m ready for my dirt nap.

She meant it as a joke, she thought. But as she pondered the merits of calling out for either the Segundo or their crotch fruit, Towhee realized there was something peaceful about that thought. And that thought prompted a loud laugh that sounded more hysterical than mirthful.

he could not make up his mind, and so spent his days between them both.

the halls of muat-riya, then to the stippled landscape of the shale.

he finds the amazon at the edge of luneshale, seemingly lost in thought while the thinning river trickles over slick stones.

even he's noticed the musculature atrophying. and though he swore off caring for any the way he'd cared for marciela, there exists in him some level of dread.

she laughs as he comes near, prompting a quizzical glance. he motions to the amazon's thigh, and then to his own. a tilt of his head: que pasa?

Soto’s arrival shoved thoughts of her mortality aside. The sight of him didn’t evoke the same fire these days, though Towhee still caught herself staring at him a beat longer than was socially acceptable. This meant she caught his own look at her leg, which she drew closer to herself. She wouldn’t use the word “self-conscious,” though she didn’t like anyone paying too much attention to her obvious vulnerability.

Ignoring the question implied by the cant of his head, Towhee asked simply, Bushtit?

the amazon returns his gaze, holding it just a second longer than most — a slender smile briefly turned the corners of his lips, though it fades as he sees her draw the limb close to her body. 

she doesn’t answer directly, instead asking after their boy. soto’s shoulders shrug. no se.

he hasn’t seen bushtit at all today, come to think of it — but their locale is fairly safe, and with his most recent enemies downed by an act of god, soto’s feeling pretty confident. 

confident enough to draw close and motion to her hip again, this time pinning her with a state that said ‘no bullshit’ this time.

“No see,” Soto said, earning a loud blink from her.

Did you just… she began to say, then shook her head and mumbled, Damnit, Bushtit. Where are you?

Just because he wasn’t here now didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn up later. It was the most likely place. Towhee already knew she wasn’t going anywhere, though she took some comfort in this reassuring thought.

Soto came closer, pointedly eyeing her bad leg. Towhee squinted at him, then quickly decided there was no use avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Besides…

I’m going to stick around for a little while, see if resting it helps, she said, speaking slowly. I’m staying here, Towhee added a bit more succinctly, patting the ground. I’m not asking. I’m telling. I’ll keep to myself and stay near the outskirts—the borders, she emphasized, wondering if he would understand a word of it.

absolutely none of what the amazon spoke was deciphered by soto -- but he appreciates the careful manner in which she speaks.

maybe it's time he learn the language -- but, agh! such distasteful sounds. no rhythm, no cadence. no beauty.

he misunderstands towhee's gesture as she pats the ground. one eye raising in expressive interest, soto flicks his tail -- is she inviting him to her side? does she want a repeat of their last intimate encounter?

part of him -- the lower half, for certain -- wishes to oblige the presumptive request. yet, much like with fiamma, soto's business here is in the green. he cannot afford distractions.

he steels the growing ache fluttering to life beneath his spine. his gaze looks elsewhere a long while, contemplative. if fiamma was here, she would no doubt tell him he was an idiot -- for his own ego's sake, he's lucky the mercenary is preoccupied at this moment.

not wishing to repeat the burning rejection he'd seen on fiamma's face, soto reaches for towhee's extended front paw with a light pat of his own; one meant to convey companionship, but nothing more -- entirely confident he'd understood her intentions, and having no shred of doubt he could have possibly misunderstood.

Rather than respond in any way, Soto stared off into the distance. Towhee stared too, right at the side of his face. One eyebrow inched its way up her own face as the moments ticked past. Had he understood any of that? Was he turning it over in his mind, perhaps doing some sort of translation? Sometimes, she had to do things like that.

So she stayed patient and silent, though both brows rose when he finally acknowledged her again—with his foot. Towhee glanced down at where he reached for her, warm toes grazing her forelimb. He patted her. Towhee blinked, then looked up at him, trying to read his face.

Okay then. Towhee paused before moving to return the gesture by awkwardly patting Soto’s nearer elbow. Good talk.

lmao

if soto wasn't such a bigot, he could have learned more english and avoided himself the spectacular mistake of assuming that towhee had just invited intimacy between them.

her gesture surprises him, but he doesn't move. it appears she's taken his rejection far more kindly than fiamma. with the infuriating and unfailing confidence of a man, soto decides this: it's time to send @Haruto after the amazon, to investigate whatever was going on with her leg. 

he nods. he knows good is the equivalent of bueno, and assumes she's fine with this arrangement. si.

and then because he's ever a man of action, soto rises. there's a segment of border he plans to revist and smear his scent all over. later, he wishes to restock the cache and check in with fiamma.

he pauses and glances back at towhee. for a minute, it looks as if he's concentrating deeply - but then he raises a paw and signals goodbye in the strange symbol-language bushtit had taught him.

His lips moved in a word that was becoming familiar despite all the language barriers between them. Then Soto rose, their respective paws falling away as he telegraphed his intention to disembark—literally, when he paused to sign at her.

Towhee blinked, then smiled a little. She tipped her head, appreciating the gesture even if it was minimal. It always made her feel welcome when others used Ptero, which suited the situation.

He soon disappeared into the distance, leaving Towhee to eye her surroundings. She supposed she should find somewhere to settle, a thought which had her sighing and climbing to her feet. With dragging steps, she began familiarizing herself with the fringes.