Word Count → 332 ::
He had been in the area for more than a week now. It felt like many months, considering during their travel he and the Kimaris never stayed anywhere too long. By now, the boy was vaguely familiar with the winding tunnels that snaked underground. He could navigate to less common areas by scent, although he only ventured out in the darkest times.
When it was only a few hours before the blackest of night, Citlali would emerge from the cave. He found no one in the tunnels during this time and discovered he could easily gather his supplies without needing to converse with another. It didn’t bother him to spend his days inside his and Tlantli’s home, although he wasn’t sure if his Aunt agreed with his bindings.
The nights were cold, and despite the warmth of spring on the breeze, underground the temperatures plummeted and rose uncontrollably. Citlali was still unaccustomed to living beneath the mountain. His sand furred ears perked again at the unusual sound of sand shifting off the walls. White hands reached across the makeshift table to grab another strand of dried grass. He smoothed and folded it in his fingers before lacing it under and through the last piece he had placed. The blanket would be complete soon.
Outside the dugout was silent accept for the raspy hum of the flames on the torches. The tawny coyote raised his dull green eyes in the direction of the door. Suddenly, the lack of graceless sounds of his Aunt rested a weight upon his shoulders. He stood slowly, lovingly placing the beginning of the woven blanket back upon his workspace.
Braids and tendrils of all kinds of jewelry were fanned out before his forest hued eyes. He tenderly grabbed a dark leather braided bangle and fiddled with the tie on the end while making his way out the door. Concentrated on the piece, Citlali only took notice to whether his feet were planted evenly or not on the ground.
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