Redsand Canyon where is your husband, nellie kane, where's your darling gone?

A deep gorge cut its way through the redsand keep, its dark throat curling away like an ancient scar across the scarlet dunes. Riley measured the shadowed ribbon as it wound its way deeper into the canyonland carefully.

He had but two options. Continue south and hope that he met water and a narrow margin in which to jump, or, brave the tumbled collection of rocks to his right that formed a precarious step-bridge across a narrow part of the chasm.

Even from his vantage, Riley did not favor the depth of the drop.

He deliberated at length, and finally struck south -- meanwhile, blissfully unaware of the faded scent of @Donovan Azura that lingered in the dry brush several meters to his left.

Donovan is still getting used to his new territory. There’s so much to explore he wonders if he ever find the end. Wonders when he’ll learn every nook and cranny of this place like the back of his paw. He will use it to his advantage when he does. He wants his enemies to wander into the canyon, he’ll stain it red with something that isn’t sand. He’ll eat them up before the arid landscape doesn’t. Somebody — please — test him; he’s been studying. 

Today he finds himself wandering between two tall clay walls into an dry wasteland. So devoid of...everything. The occasional patch of wild flowers catches his attention but the further he goes the more he assumes it is endless even though he can see the mountains that surround their territory a good few miles away. As he goes further in, he sees something. A first he thinks it’s a mirage. The reflection playing games on his mind. Yet as he grows closer a long, jagged gap in the ground is something he becomes aware of quite fast. The the form on the other side of the bottomless pit.

Once he’s finally toe to toe with the edge of the scar, he smirks something devilish. “Look who it is.” He says loud enough to catch his attention if his approaching form didn’t already.

In a way the desert was like Riley's mind. Vacuous, empty. Filled with red and shadows. He might have felt at home here, if it wasn't for the hazy figure that appeared like a mirage on the horizon.

He tensed, recognizing the male immediately. While he was not immediately in danger given the rift that cut between them, he was not a wolf stupid enough to taunt a beast Donovan's size. With Riley's luck, Donovan might be able to clear the gap in one athletic leap.

Slowing to a stop, Riley regarded the male neutrally -- though his offset eye seemed to slip to the side as he did so. "Look who it is." The yearling parroted back, wondering if the gévaudan still thirsted for combat.

He notices the males attention on him and he laughs when he copies his greeting. Quirking a brow at the younger wolf he tilts his head. “What brings you around these parts then, peaches?” The pet name is a teasing endearment, but no malice is held in his voice. “Have you finally found your voice?” 

He jerks his head up in a movement of acknowledgment. “Why don’t you trust me? I only wanted a friendly spar.” The last question is obviously a jest. He knows exactly why he doesn’t trust him. Hell, if he wasn’t himself he wouldn’t trust him either.

Riley couldn't say he cared for 'peaches', but it took a long while for his brain to process it was meant endearingly. His eyes narrowed, but he made no remark after the moniker or subsequent teasing about his voice, instead looking ahead and wondering just where the gorge would bend and Donovan would be able to join him.

As for the question? Riley didn't catch it was rhetorical. He knew the answer to this, so his response was more forthcoming than usual. "Trust like that is not freely given." Damn, Laurel would be proud (alternatively, so would the orc outside of Mor Khazgur's stronghold in Skyrim). He slid his gaze back to the man, wondering how much longer he had before Donovan was on this side of the gulch. "Are you following me?" Of course, Riley was not yet aware the gévaudan had made Redsand his claim -- but in time, he would surely be enlightened.

He allows a short spur of laughter to bubble past his lips. “Of course, I would think you naive if you trusted me so freely.”

Then he tilts his head inquisitively at the male. Was Donovan following him? More like was he following Donovan. Which Donovan doubts that he is, judging by his bland, uninterested demeanor towards the brindled man. 

Then he gives a quick bark of a laugh. “No. I should be asking you that. My pack and I have claimed these lands as our own. There’s many more of us now.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Donovan had claimed the Redsands as his domain. Several seconds spanned, wider than the chasm between them, as Riley digested this news.

Did that mean...

Was he...?

He blinked owlishly, processing this with the general reluctance and malaise of a teenager who did not wish to be at fault.

"I did not know." He replied, unsure if the laugh was genuine or ominous. He could not parse it, not with his poorly functioning social skills. "How many?" Not that it was his business, but he wished to know if he was about to be Robin-Hooded right out of the sandy keep in the next second.

Should he start running?

If he was smart, maybe.

Donovan has to admit that he likes the fact that the information given to him wipes that stoic expression off his face. To be replaced with something akin to I may have just fucked up. Donovan isn’t that kind of guy — sometimes. Today though, he isn’t. He won’t kill him, or any other malicious things many expect of him. So shaking his head his smile never falters, though it does become playfully flirty. While also being an odd mix of true casual confidence.

“Calm down, princess.” He hums. “You’re welcome here. You haven’t wronged me enough to become a snack.” He chuckles.  The words probably do nothing to soothe him, but maybe they will.

“Five; excluding myself. So six.” Then coin gold eyes gaze to him in a certain type of way and he quirks twins brows at him. “Wouldn’t mind making it seven. You seem entirely trainable.” He offers, a flame in his eyes that seem to dance with anticipation.

How rude would it be to not give him an easy way out. He shrugs. “Though, if you deny, then I will except. We will end on fair terms.” 

Peaches. Princess. Snack.

Riley's stomach lurched, but not out of fear. Donovan had just reminded him he was here in the canyon for food, and had found nothing but sand and stone and empty, hateful space.

Until now.

He eyed the male carefully, his lazy eye landing somewhere beyond Donovan -- fixated towards the clouds, maybe. He ignored that unsettling smile, the way the male's intelligent gaze passed over him as if measuring his worth.

He knew a gilded offer when he saw one, but could he risk it? He had no ties -- not to his mother, not to Easthollow. He thought of Esme, but his stomach ruled him more than his brain (and truthfully, how much brain did he really have?).

Then, he said the thing that tied all beasts to their masters: "Do you have food?"

He sees the gears turning and sliding into place as his mind works through the pros and cons. Deciding whether or not Donovan is a threat. Deciding his fate so to speak. He isn’t new to denial, so another no won’t offset him. Yet finally when the younger speaks, the sentence is most unsuspecting.

Most ask what his pack has to offer, what’s in it for them, or many other miscellaneous questions pertaining to the individuals well being with the Saints. Yet this boy — man, asks for fucking food. Do they have fucking food. Why it seems the deal is sealed. ‘Cause fuck yes they have food. 

So Donovan laughs just as he has many times before. This one seems just as loyal as a starving dog — literally. Hopefully food won’t entice him to turn against him in the end. “Hell yeah we have food, peaches.” He says enthusiastically. “Once you get across maybe we can discuss it more. I’ll show you the cache I’m sure you so wish to bury yourself into.” 

Now, he looks off to the East. Seeing the massive crack becoming less and less torn. “Follow me.” He hums, beginning to walk along the edge where the scar thins gradually.

Loyal as a starving dog was right.

Riley had lived a thrifty life up into this moment. He had plans. He had hopes.

Hell, he had ambitions -- but the funny thing about all of these things, is that they have one common drive;

they require subsistence.

He can tell the man might think him stupid (fair). He can tell, by the way the leviathan laughs as if food were a laughing matter. Riley's stomach lurched as he thought of a cache - as he thought of burying his head so far up that fucking cairn-pit that when he emerged he was covered in the gristle of the dead --

Oh, it was a picture that had him most excited.

Those reptilian eyes showed a spark of life, perhaps for the first time since Donovan had encountered him.

"How do I cross?"

As they walk, practically side by side, he’s gazes down to the pit then to the other. He can feel the aura of the male is perhaps a bit different. Fascinating. “We’re going to have to walk all the way down. It’s too deep to cross.” His voice sounds tired at the mere idea of it. Oh well. If the man needs food and is willing to join his ranks as a fair warrior, then he is willing to help.

It’s not a horrible walk, eventually they get there and finally they’re meeting face to face. Like actually face to face. Donovan gives him a teasing yet moderately comforting smile and jerks his head to the side motioning for him to follow.

They were to walk; Riley cast his gaze down the chasm, following Donovan's glance. He wondered how deep this scar went, how long it had been there -- and what horrible trauma had excised it on the red sand.

He supposed he didn't care: he was hungry, Donovan was leading him to food -- life was about to get that much better.

Riley followed, eventually coming to a place where the long trench had ended; here he stood face to face with Donovan and once again was reminded of the colossus' true size. As Donovan grinned and turned his head to the side Riley followed, all the while saliva scarcely held in his pooling jaws as he thought of how soon, he would finally eat.

Im down to fade here if you are! If not I’d be okay with continuing as well.

Donovan would lead him to Warriors Heart. The place they have decided to make their new home — their den. Surely the walk back will be filled with Donovan’s persistent bothering. He likes to get to know every one of his pack members. He wants to train them personally, spar with them, and if they don’t already know, teach them to hunt. Though he’s wonders the male beside him needs some hunting lessons, or if times have just been a bit trying for him. No luck finding food perhaps.

Shit, he doesn’t know him yet but he wouldn’t put it past him to grab some food and leave. Though he hopes that isn’t the case, he will do all he can to ensure the man is comfortable in the new environment. Though really only time will tell and Donovan will surely watch his progress.

fade sounds good, and a new one shortly? <3

Eager as Riley was to eat, he understood the importance of humoring the umber gevaudan besides him. He answered what he could, in his own way - often there would be slow spells of thought, of processing, before he answered -- but he did his best to share what information Donovan requested.

He was an average hunter, Donovan would find if he asked. He had come from Easthollow, but had left because he never felt he belonged. He had made it the last several months by mostly eating frogs and carrion; Donovan would learn Riley had few scruples, and a rotted meal was not one of them.

Riley did not mention his mother, nor Esme - though both never left his mind as he settled into Warrior's Heart.