A Reunion and a Tragedy

Characters: Zephyr, Zocalo

Location: Banks of the River Moss

It is late evening and Zephyr is out for an evening stroll. She isn't much tired and the advent of her brother's arrival has left her somewhat perturbed. Paws behind her back, she strolls somewhat agitatedly along the shoreline, kicking at rocks and vegetation.

Zocalo, more interested in talking with his twin than anything, has tracked her out of Camp and to the banks of the mighty Moss but he isn't sure how to approach her. There is legitimate bad blood between them, despite the fact that they were raised together and she is three minutes older than him. Heck, a random passerby would have no way to tell them apart they look so identical. But the past is not the past at this moment and he can't live in Camp Willow if it's Skipper is going to be mad at him. Zocalo clears his throat.

Zephyr looks up and turns around to see her brother. Her expression is instantly one of anger. "What do you want?" She demands, glowering at him with her deep green eyes, identical to the ones in Zocalo's own stupid face.

"We need to talk." Zocalo holds out his paws in an gesture of peace. He has no weapons on him whatsoever and understands her anger. "I need to stay here but I can't if you remain angry at me."

"Oh, you wit' yer fancy speech an' careful tongue." Zephyr immediately drops her educated accent, opting for the chopped slang that they both grew up with. She spits. "Y' had no use fer me back then, but y' needs me now. My, 'ow them tables 'ave turned." She stands paws akimbo, smirking at her brother. "An' yew know I has every right t' tell ya t' get packin'."

Zocalo nods and ducks his head. "I know. I know. And I would deserve it. But I'm hoping you'll be willing to forgive me despite everything."

Zephyr stares at him for a good long while.

Zocalo squirms and stares up at her with the same sad, puppy dog eyes he used to give her in their youth.

"We almos' /died/." Zephyr emphasizes, despite the big eyes. "An' yew didn' care one liddle bit 'bout yer kin."

"I know." Zocalo drops his head again and whispers. "And you have no idea how sorry I am."

Zephyr clenches her fists in rage. "An' where 'ave yew bin all these years? While I was runnin' an' hidin' an' ma was dyin'?"

"I'll tell you everything, I promise. Just please, please let me stay here." Zocalo keeps his head ducked and his eyes squinched shut.

Zephyr stays quiet for a very long time before she finally relents and whispers, "Alright. You can stay." She shakes her head and turns to look out over the river. Something floating close to the shore catches her attention.

Zocalo is completely oblivious to whatever Zephyr has seen. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You won't regret this, I promise."

"Shut up!" Zephyr waves a paw at him to get him to be quiet and wades part way out into the water. "Do you see this?" She doesn't touch it but she herds it closer to the shore.

The tiny skeleton bobs up and down in the water, mostly devoid of flesh and with only bits of muscle and ligament. In short, it is quite disgusting. And small. Very small. Zocalo is repulsed and backs away from the water. "Oh, oh, Zeph, don't touch that, it's a…"

"Skeleton. A dibbun. We can't leave it here." Zephyr stops short and looks upstream with a look of horror. "Mint." She whispers.

"Mint?" Zocalo looks at her funny and then holds out two large leaves. "No, these are just leaves…"

"Shut UP!" Zephyr snaps at him. "Quick! Grab this skeleton and bring it back to camp."

"Oh, but Zephyr…" Zocalo whines.

"Do you want to stay here or not?" Zephyr is already moving quickly towards the camp. "Bring it to the main grounds! Go FAST!" And then she's gone, leaving Zephyr to take care of the tiny skeleton.

>----The End----<