Sleepy Fox Hollow Run, run lost boy

He was promised a desert, and Donovan, if anything, kept his promises. 

With every step, the sand shifted beneath his feet. It was alive-- living and breathing, as he left his footprints behind him in sporadic spirals. In less than a day, they would be gone. Again, he remembers the temptation of Christ. He is cross-legged and alone in the wilderness. He is wasting away in the dark, but angels come and tend to him, each one a pinpoint glow which gets larger and larger as they approach.

Colin would follow Finley's scent just as she had followed Nemisis. Finley intrigued him-- Nemisis too. He knew even less about the volatile second-in-command, whose capacity for violence strained to escape from her skin like jumping electricity. Wherever she went, she carried a gallon container of gasoline and a match.

So he wasn't surprised when he heard a few snippets of conversation. Conversation would be a stretch. He can feel the tension from here; the air is thick with it. The pair of white wolves (almost twins, they struck him as competent and efficient) seemed to be from the same pack. They clearly weren't the trigger-happy sort, which he was thankful for.

He hangs back just within earshot, though he is tensed for potential combat. How much of himself would he be willing to give up for the Saints?