Redsand Canyon Welcoming Committee

ravensblood forest, when they returned, was quiet. it seemed likely that donovan had scraped up more of a crew in renard’s absence, so they’d even been so polite as to call at the borders – nothing. the forest still smelled recently of the saints – and recently of others. trails in two directions. they’d already signed their proverbial contract, so they found the saints’ trail before time and rain could tamp it down, and started tracking.

this was one of their better-honed skills. their previous profession – still truly their only profession, as long as there was someone to command it – had relied heavily on such matters.

this did not stop it from spiraling into a very long walk. long enough of a walk for their mind to wander, to start picking apart what they could discern of the scents; it was more than simply donovan, and the vast majority not familiar to their nose.

but there was one that they should have recognized. the thought followed them all the way through the hot springs, over a gorge, into the plains, as they drew closer – the advantage of traveling on your own, of course, was that you did not linger for anyone but yourself, and the scents grew less faded the faster they walked; days had gone by, and they were all the way into a thick forest that smelled unsettlingly of mountain lion before, in a flash of inspiration, they remembered it.

oh. of course. in retrospect, it was now very funny they had spent so long warning that neverwinter forest wolf of cannibals before turning around and joining them themselves.

anyways. it wasn’t a deterrent yet. they pressed on, and the trail led them straight from welcoming dimly lit forest to a wide open red-rock canyon, pine needles giving way to sand that shifted under their paws. the stones marked with a fresh smell, one that renard knew.

they did not howl this time, like they had in ravensblood. they slunk through the mouth and stuck to the shadows as the sun began to dip on the horizon, turning the canyon walls from red to orange to purple, and in the end it wasn’t that cannibal they found first (that would be a mess, though perhaps there would be some fun to it); instead, it was donovan, wandering through the shrubbery and sand.

“this is a dramatic change of scenery,” renard said from behind him. “was sap bleeding from the trees not doing it for you anymore?”