QUEST FOR THE RED STONE (Pillar men AU)

PLAN( ish )

Wamuu and Santana crept toward the peach-colored house, careful to mask their approach in the moonlit silence. Each step they took caused them to sink slightly into the soft desert sands, which clung to the soles of their high boots, nearly reaching their knees. Thankfully, their boots shielded them from the sand, a small mercy in a land that seemed intent on swallowing them whole.

Every so often, Santana's gaze drifted back to the rugged mountain range where Kars and Esidisi slept. He could almost feel the difference under his feet—the mountains' hard, jagged rocks, a terrain that had once torn the bottom of Esidisi's shoes. Santana remembered the fuss his master had made, on the verge of tears until Kars had calmly mended the damage. Despite the mountains' brutality, they offered at least a whisper of life, a reason for the pillar men to seek refuge there rather than this desolate sand. Yet Wamuu, ever the warrior, would always choose the rougher path, the one that tested his endurance, if only to prove himself worthy of his masters' pride.

Lost in thought, Santana was jolted back when Wamuu suddenly yanked him down by the collar, pulling him to his knees. Startled, Santana opened his mouth to protest, but Wamuu's hand clamped over his lips, silencing him. With a finger to his own lips, Wamuu shushed him, his eyes narrowed in caution. Santana, irritated but understanding the stakes, nodded silently, signaling his compliance.

Wamuu released his grip and carefully raised himself to peer through the house's open window, motioning for Santana to do the same. They surveyed the interior—a simple, almost pitiful dwelling, dimly lit by the moon's glow. The house held only sparse furniture: a pair of rickety cabinets crowded with worn pots and pans, a table that looked one hard knock away from collapsing, and in the corner, a man asleep atop a rough bed of hay, cocooned in a heap of blankets.

Satisfied, Wamuu gave Santana a quick tap on the shoulder, signaling him to retreat. Both men ducked back down, sinking to eye level in the sand. Wamuu leaned close, his voice a whisper.

"Alright, here's the plan," Wamuu began, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "We're going to pretend we're homeless children. Lure him outside, and once he's out, we knock him unconscious."

Santana blinked, surprised by the unexpected cleverness in Wamuu's plan. Though uncertain, he nodded, knowing that Wamuu's resolve was set. As the silent signal passed between them, Wamuu, with barely contained excitement, raised his hands in a silent cheer, eager for his idea to prove itself.

Then, with a swift determination, Wamuu lowered himself to crawl toward the house's entrance, and Santana, following suit, crawled close behind. In the moonlight, their forms moved like shadows, silent and cautious, preparing for a calculated ruse that would determine their worth in the eyes of their sleeping masters.