Luneshale Pass the colour of led

Ouch.

Lying in the sun, he found that a burning sensation overtook him. His skin felt hot, itchy, and painful. He had felt the uncomfortable warmth before, but never like this; then again, he had never spent this long outside of the den. His mother was only just growing comfortable allowing him to wander.

Letting out a cry of what was clear annoyance, his body twisted to allow him to nibble at the fur on his flank. He thought it had to be something small and easy to fix, like a red ant crawling on him.. or a lot of red ants, given the pain covered most of his top half. When it did not cease, he cried once more and whipped his head around. Whether or not his mother or anyone else was calling out he did not know, but he needed to find someone to get these 'ants' off of him.

a cry rouses soto from patrol’s monotony. his first steps were light, yet the second cry has the segundo easing into an urgent gallop. 

he comes across the boy — cotton 
grass white and beamish — chewing on his own pelt. he looks first for an intruder, then blood. 

seeing neither, and feeling the hammer of his heart as delos’ cry brought to mind an earlier, wretched memory, soto sniffs roughly at the boy’s pelt, brow creasing in perplexity.

Someone comes to him, alert and unspeaking. Delos does not mind the silence in the least, for it means there is nothing to listen for. One less source of stress.

Standing still as he is inspected, wet nose pushing against him, he turns his head in search of his mother or Safiya. His skin is hot to the touch, red and flaking save for the underneath of his body. He looks as though he's been dropped in boiling water. It isn't ants as the boy believes, but a burn.

Something was wrong with his brother. Apollo, a spitfire from the first, didn't stop to ask questions when he caught sight of the man prodding around Delos. He launched himself with a snarl toward the older wolf, not caring if Soto was a familiar face or not. He wasn't family — and he was making trouble, the way Apollo saw it.

So he lunged, puppy teeth bared, careless of the consequences.

the boy stays stock still as soto works his nose through pale fur. soto ranked the maladies he knew in his mind: the boy didn't smell sick, but he looks like shit.

where's leto?

before he can call for her, he sees a flash of chestnut red in his periphery. the oxen-boy comes at him like a swung fist, teeth clashing with his front leg.

a firebrand! such spirit! soto bites back the laugh, seeking to place his other paw upon the boy's shoulders and briefly immobilize him. bajate un cambio.

hoping that's enough to subdue him, soto loosens a bark for leto.

Leto comes to them at the sound of Soto's bark. She had been searching for a meal to satisfy her picky eaters, leaving them to play where she knew other's were watching and listening. At the sight of her sons distress, one wailing and the other acting aggressively towards the Segundo, she furrows a brow. ¿Qué pasó? She asks. Leto does not wish to jump to the conclusion the Soto is to blame.

Gently pushing past Apollo and Soto, she noses Delos in attempt to comfort. She assumes he was simply scared by something or the sore loser of a game, but her head rears back at the hot, rough, and peeling skin beneath thin fur.

Apollo comes teeth bared, the Segundo says something Delos cannot hear before calling for his mother. As if being reminded of his pain, he let's out another wail at the bark for Leto.

The familiar white fur of his mother comes into view, her mouth moving but the words never reaching his ears. He can see that she is worried, it leaves him scared. Another cold nose to his fur, her head rears back.

Has he done something wrong?

Out of everything that had happened within the span of perhaps a minute, Apollo took only one thing from it all: the fiend was squashing him! He went down with a high squeal, never the most graceful puppy to begin with, and found himself belly-down in the dirt. Face-down, too. He spat out a mouthful of dirt and went very still for a moment.

Then he remembered himself, and his ears went hot, and he shook with baby rage. He took a single, ominously deep breath — then loosed a long, ear-piercing shriek that would not end until either he passed out or someone found the off switch. Whichever came first.

the moment leto arrives, soto turns over the pale puppy to its mother. he doesn't know what could cause such redness; his eye momentarily tracks the sun, wondering. es delos. algo no esta bien.

but the other one -- the fiesty one -- for a heart-stopping second he thinks he's killed him. the boy is just still. not moving.

his ears clamp to his skull instantly thereafter, as the boy sounds a piercing cry to rival a klaxon horn.

he looks to leto helplessly, a man well out of his element.

There is far too much to take in. Her baby is hurt, her other one is misbehaving, and Soto has been wrapped up in her mess.

A frustration bubbling at the sound of Apollo's shriek, she is suddenly quick to scold. Apollo, stop it! Can't you see that your brother is hurt? She looks to the red-coated little boy with a glare that is quick to soften, licking the top of his head.

Es solo una quemadura de sol. She decides, looking to Soto. Remojaremos a Delos en el agua y luego lo llevaremos adentro por un rato. Whether that was the best solution or not, she was not sure, but how else did you treat such a thing?

Addressing both of her boys now, she nods towards the stream. Come, let's go play in the water. Would you two like that?

He feels scared watching the exchange between Soto and his mother, the pit in his stomach growing as Apollo let's loose a horrible shriek.

But his mother seems quick to try and calm things, inviting him and his brother to get in the water. Cool water sounds like it would be perfect, but despite this he looks to Apollo for reassurance.

Apollo was not so easily soothed. He screamed and screamed — and cut off to growl a bit when his mother licked his head — and screamed some more. There was no stopping this train, especially now that mom had scolded him. Unforgivable. Didn't she know that he was hurt too? Mortally wounded, he was sure!

Clearly she didn't care, so Apollo shrieked to make her ears care if nothing else. What he didn't anticipate was the outcome any adult could have predicted: eventually he ran fully out of breath, and when he didn't stop even for that, his eyes rolled back and he fell limp. Conked out on his own baby rage.

his ears remain folded, straining to hear leto through the baby wails. for a moment, he senses frustration -- but she quickly reins in her passions, and softly reassures both (though one wasn't having it).

he's not certain, but he thinks she's mentioned something about the water.

can babies scream if their heads are held underwater?

soto chases away that thought immediately, his attention drawn to the suddenly quiet apollo. his shadow leans over the slumped boy as he sniffs and listens; the boy's breathing is light and present.

he remembers witnessing this before, in his own daughter. in marciela cradling her cl--

no.

drowning that memory out, soto scoops up the limp apollo and follows after leto to the stream.

She's growing tired by the day. Motherhood is the hardest job she's been faced with yet.

Taking her pale son, she lowers his paws into the shallow stream. Her poor baby, red and shaking, but she sees some relief as the cool water touches him.

Glancing to Soto carrying the limp, self-exhausted Apollo, she cannot help but smile. Serías un buen padre. With some practice, maybe, but she had needed practice too. But he was relatively gentle with the babes, and she felt that he cared for them.

Using a paw she gently pushed the water towards Delos. ¿Algún día tendrás hijos?

He stands still while his mother splashes him with water. It stings a bit, but the cool water feels better than the burning sun.

His ears are tuned to the words shared between the two adults. He does not yet fully understand, but he is intent to learn. Bits and peaces of each language his mother speaks, filling his vocabulary in a mismatched jumble.

skipping and wrapping up with permission <3

he's grateful to have apollo to contend with as a distraction; placing him down on the bank gave him a convenient excuse to quickly turn his face away so leto might not see the bolt of pain manifested there. 

she didn't know, and so, he knew she didn't mean it. he glances down at the boy limp in the reedgrass, listening to the gentle splatter of leto trickling water across delos' inflamed hide.

he's a worse father than she could possibly know, for there is one another likely sired by him. the subject matter's too sore for soto to indulge in exploring. he grunts and motions at the boy, passing over leto's question entirely. llevaré de vuelta a apolo. tómate el tiempo que necesites. scooping apollo between his teeth once more, soto aims for the den.

he will keep the child under watch until leto returns. then he will hunt.