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The gray stone tower the boy had used to shelter himself for the second week of life in Salsola had been decided upon as his permanent home. It remained empty as it was in arrival, reduced to only a large circular room with a dusty hard floor. Citlali had made his sleeping quarters upstairs, where he had first spent the night. Despite the missing bricks forming the odd window and the slight notch in the roof, the tower was completely stable.
After deciding to shelter there for however long he would live in Salsola, the tawny boy began to shift it to his liking. More shards were removed from the tattered and broken door and carefully stacked besides the building. The dust was cleaned from both levels as well as the spider webs from the curved corners. He had plans for adding a work desk, but found he was unable to venture out without coming across another member. For now, only his hand woven sack occupied the small space as well as the light beams from the down stairs cracked window.
Aunt Tlantli had told him about Larkspur's plan a few days ago. The boy would have been a fool to deny such a request from a higher authority figure. Of course he could weave a fence. On the morning of the designated day, Citlali awoke on the ground and left immediately, leaving all his belongings behind in the tower. He headed straight towards where his half relative had pointed him to. Well, almost straight. Citlali couldn’t help taking the path besides the worn trails and scouting for others on occasion. The trail was lost several times in his frantic attempt to avoid conversation with a wolf that passed by. Eventually, however, the sand-toned Kimaris spotted Larkspur.
He approached him silently, lingering beside his lines of a fence. The obvious lack of a greeting may have been unsettling or awkward to another, but the boy was used to being slightly mute. Fingers tapped once on the boards of the rough fence before retreating immediately, not wanting to be caught dawdling on the wrong sights.
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