Redsand Canyon Damnation comes with a pretty face

cameo. yeehaw. tag me if you need another renard response

it had, once upon a time, been renard's job to know what went on in their territory. nobody came in or out without them knowing about it. they were every shadow, and the reason you watched your back before you started talking treason. praimfaya was the only one here with the presence of mind to do something with it, but habits didn't fade so easily.

and nyra wasn't quiet.

renard didn't need to be a shadow to hear her. all they needed was ears. maybe a nose for the blood she trailed behind her.

so all of that mess with neverwinter forest had been pointless after all. all of that interest in donovan. when it came to the event that finally drove the saints into action, would make this joke worthwhile staying for, they should have been paying attention to her.

seelie court had left them at more of a loss than they'd have liked, when it came to the saints' current affairs, and they hadn't had the chance to speak with praimfaya yet. or donovan, if they could be bothered. he wasn't likely to reveal anything helpful.

so of course they came along behind her, quiet in the shade and eager as a hunter locking eyes on its wounded prey. she dripped blood like she'd bathed in it, sobbing as she ran, such a stark contrast from their first meeting with clay, all perfect and put together until he said the wrong thing. they'd known from the very second she started roaring that she was as much of a liability as donovan was, too hotheaded to take a second and think – the patient act only worked when you could maintain it. and they'd been right.

she wasn't dead, but it was a close thing. drawing a heavy breath through their nose, stained with heavy salt-and-iron, renard drew soundlessly up behind her, stopping in the overhang of the cliff. from the shadow, they were nothing beyond a pair of violet eyes and the silver gleam of a grin; not hiding, just waiting.

and then she spoke.

renard would have laughed, if they were in any other company. easthollow was something they'd have to learn of later, but it wasn't yuèlóng, it wasn't neverwinter forest, it wasn't seelie court. it was ursus. their allies. she'd lost her temper over a kid, and here she was, crying at donovan's feet.

if something like this had happened back at the court, aion would have called them forward. they wouldn't have needed to ask for the command; they would have torn her throat out in one bite, and that would have been the end of it. there was no room for this kind of mistake.

if donovan was smart, he would have done the same thing.

instead, she was playing him for a fool, and he was buying it.

they shouldn't have been surprised. and yet, somehow, he found new ways to disappoint them. of course someone would react badly to their child being ragdolled, and neither leader of ursus had struck them as particularly forgiving to begin with.

stepping from the shadow, renard waited patiently at the edge of the cliff-face to either be addressed or for the conversation to come to an end, their habitual smile still curling their lip. if praimfaya didn't show, this was information she'd certainly be interested in.

and just like nemisis screaming, spilling blood from her torn throat as donovan stood above her, this was a show they didn't intend to miss.

He'd found the blood trail into Warriors Heart.
And sprinted into there.
Nyra was the victim. Renard the lurker.
Donovan the questioner. Derg, the decider.

He strode over, face grave.
"What did you do?" He uttered quietly. He immediately assumed the worst from the hotheaded woman.
She'd obviously fought something and she reeked of Ursus.
She really had fucked up.
Her explanation came, and he assumed he was not noticed by her as of yet. Grovelling at Donovan's feet.

"You stupid bitch," he quietly raged, wrath rolling over his form as he strode over her crumpled body.
Paws either side of her, lowering his maw to her ear.
"Wolves who fuck up like that from my home lose their ears, and then their paws, and then their tongues and tails until they bleed out. Do you want that Nyra?"
His voice harsh, soft growls edging his promising words.
This ally was all they had for support and she'd tried to butcher their young.

Leigh was known for her worse than terrible timing, but she never thought it'd be this bad so quickly. Wandering around the territory, just doing her own thing, spacing out like an idiot and watching grass grow, she barely caught the sight of a pale flash before she noticed a few other pack members following the figure.

Too curious for her own good.

Trotting over, the wolves became clearer and appeared more familiar. She definitely recognized Derg, as he had greeted her during Donovan's little introduction meeting. The others she couldn't quite pinpoint. She still hadn't socialized as much as she had hoped with the others, and felt a bit bad considering she may have forgotten their names, that is, if they gave them to her.

The dark-furred female remained at a distance, her sharp ears turning inwards as she silently listened to the conversation. Nyra, the injured woman, could barely speak. Leigh was eager to know what happened and soon found out as the others pitched in.

She did what!? Ragdolling another wolf was one thing, but a child? And considering Nyra's size, the poor thing probably flew across the map before landing like a fucking meteor. Even if the kid was a brat, that wasn't his fault. If anything, Leigh wanted to have a talk with the pup's parents. Now they were the ones at fault. Perhaps they were young parents but regardless, you shouldn't have children of your own if you still are one yourself.

But... The white she-wolf was nearly dead. If she had met the Ursus wolves to apologize, and if she truly had done so correctly, it was on them for not accepting it.

I hate wolves. Dumber than rocks I swear.

The other comments weren't necessary, however. It was true that in some packs Nyra would have been killed if she hadn't already died from her wounds. Leigh was born in one of those packs. But that didn't make it right. Surely a civil talk with Ursus would solve things. Maybe. Hopefully. Okay, probably not. Nope. Throw that idea in the garbage.

It was then she heard a familiar voice. Donovan.

At first, she agreed with his words. Then she didn't.

Punishment. Seriously? It was true that the wolves ganged up on a single wolf but it was only after a child had been thrown across the dirt. If it were her own child, Leigh would have... but... no. Leigh wasn't a mother anymore, and she did not fight for her family. Anything she thought or said now would be hypocritical.

The she-wolf wanted to speak. Speak up. Speak her mind and fucking scream at them all for thinking this way. But she refused to do so. She only just joined the Saints and she wouldn't ruin her friendships within a week.

Leigh only allowed a mere 'huff' to escape her lips before turning to leave. A wayfarer she was, one who walks on foot. Only fitting that she'd simply walk away.

She certainly wasn't taking him seriously.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe the resignation of fear.
He could feel his body readily rise up to the challenge.
Blood cooling, skin shivering as his hackles rose.

But them being on the same level? Yeah fucking right. Nyra could only dream of the things he'd done.
And thinks he's fucking scared? He almost laughed. Rather, his gaze tilted up to Donovan with a bemused smirk, then Renard. None of them have seen him at his worst yet.
And all she could do was a body slam, eh?

What a child.

He left her body, taking Kynareth's advice. Yeah, they should see Ursus first, let her heal.
His hackles smoothed as he noticed Leigh leaving. Poor lass.
He met them all with stony silence, that smirk replaced by a perpetual frown. He just watched Nyra.