Word Count » 324 Sorry this took awhile. Citlali is at the borders from Salsola in hopes he could trade some things for one or two pigs. This thread has been confirmed by James, and anyone that is able to trade may join.
Citlali Kimaris-Etalpalli
The trip was long on foot, and the boy was panicky despite his short history living within Anathema. He knew the way; he had taken it with The Family to get where they were now. But the boy was still weary every step. If he had not taken such a liking to gardening and cultivating for the pack he wouldn’t even have been standing on the borders of his second home. But finding mushrooms was getting difficult and he was threatening Salsola with the possibility of poison. In some cases, Citlali had been lucky, but he knew he needed help and wouldn’t be able to ask another member.
A familiar vast of silence stretched out behind the invisible line of the border. The Kimaris knew where they all were, he even knew how to get there. He could almost hear the distinct echo of paws and voices in the dirt caverns and how the shadows flickered all day and all night from the low-hanging torches. However, Citlali couldn’t bring himself to say he missed the territory. Salsola was so much wilder, in aura and in terrain. It was much easier to hide and keep to himself.
But here the boy stood, memories flooding with great vividness. He thought he would wait, just listen for a clamor of a member or for his thistle scent to penetrate the area. Eventually, although it took him a moment to muster up the courage, he let out a stiff howl. Much like any time the ginger-white coyote spoke, the noise was hoarse and sounded painful. The howl was barely loud enough and couldn’t have carried inside the mountain. He recoiled instantly after the sound ceased and waited. Every now and then Citlali nervously twisted his sleek head and fingered the white bangle out of habit. Eventually, the flopping of his layered sand colored locks into dull dark emerald eyes quieted as time wore on.
Assuming anything the white coydog did could be considered normal at all, Matteo was doing his usual thing that day; sulking. Alaki was busy with his rank's chores and running errands for Naniko. Camilla was off with one of her friends. Carissa was with Camilla...
...and Demi was...
No, he wouldn't think about it again. He'd mourned already. Hadn't that been enough? Mi manca così tanto ... He sat outside the den, bored and watching as the mare he'd taken out for some air wandered about, grazing and enjoying the sun. It was it his surprise that a howl, though barely audible, carried to him on the wind. Instantly alert, the boy decided to make quick time in greeting the caller by taking the mare. He hoisted himself onto her and nudged her ribs, sending her into a swift trot.
As the pair came across the border, he spotted the caller; a orangey colored thing smelling of that new group... Salsola, he believed. Tugging the mare into a stop, Matteo sat straighter, ears flicking up. Buongiorno. I'm Matteo Trovato, Anzu of Anathema. What brings you to our borders, stranger? He sniffed the air pointedly, then offered a knowing smirk. Has Salsola sent you for something? He hadn't met this fellow, though he looked vaguely famillar, like he'd seen him around before. Had he been by the caves before? Curious...
His body drooped, curled over slightly as if out of pain or age. Hands cut up and wrinkled seemingly by time and by stories he could tell of his many experiences. However, this was not the coyote’s case. He was still young and hid himself from a world that could teach him much. Each bird song sent a chill down the boy’s spine and every rustle almost drove him to flee the scene. But he waited, still and silent as usual, hunched over as if out of pain or age.
So when the sound came, it was heard immediately much like the rabbit crossing the path or the branch creaking in the distance. Citlali was up from his mournful crouch in a second, ignoring the searing instinct to hide. The soft murmur of faint hoof beats grew rapidly until a snow-white rider approached on a fast moving mare. He was alone, but the expression he bore was curious yet sharply indifferent. The ginger boy inclined himself before graduating the awkward action into a bow. As Citlali rose, he let his distant green gaze rest over the Anathema. There was no immediate recognition.
The Kimaris stumbled over his words at first, looking anywhere than at anything.
“Hola,”
He responded in his own tongue, assuming the other canine’s foreign words were a greeting.
“I am Citlali … Kimaris, Confidant … of Salsola,”
The sand-toned coyote panted once silently. Why was he there?
“I was told that you … Anathema … had pigs. ‘would like to trade for two,”
He looked up after speaking and wanted to snarl at the way his words came out so panicky and nervous. Like usual, Citlali anticipated a look of contempt from the other man. His pelt looked soft and blank, as if unfinished. He knew he would have remembered such fur from the days in the tunnels.
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