Redsand Canyon the ritual pyre's sending smoke to the sky

however much renard might have preferred trees and thick brush, the cliffs gave off a deal of much-needed shade. trapped on this flat plain of sun and dehydrated dirt, it was becoming apparent that their thick black and brown fur – even shed of their winter coat – was not meant to deal with all the heat reflected off the ground and sand. they were already panting just to keep from overheating.

but it was important to know all of this territory. even if it was absolutely miserable to walk through. building character, though renard didn’t like to apply the phrase to themselves as much as to children for fun.

a bark somewhere behind their shoulder startled them from their steady walk towards the single rocky outcrop in the distance. one ear flicking back, renard turned, very much not expecting that an intruder would be this far into the saints’ lands, this region in particular.

the man walking towards them, likewise panting, was not entirely unfamiliar. they had been briefly acquainted during their arrival to the canyon. briefly. renard knew no more of him than they knew of the rest of the saints, with donovan’s possible exception.

they were not, of course, under the impression they had learned anything special about him. he had the air of someone who knew exactly what he was doing no matter how he acted while doing it, which they could respect.

“renard, yes.” smiling pleasantly, they inclined their head. “and you’re…” they hummed, “derg, correct?” they gestured towards his muzzle with their own, to his tongue hanging from between his teeth. “how are you enjoying the weather?”