Redsand Canyon Welcoming Committee

renard prided themselves more in their speed and stealth than their ability to overpower – there was a reason they preferred an ambush to a straight fight. they weren’t much more suited than donovan in the other regard – they were northern-born, used to ice and snow and forest, not cliffs and sand and sun.

it was not a competition, but what could they say? they were panting before they caught up with him, mouth dry and sandy; for a moment they ran neck and neck, renard keeping an eye to the side unless the spar was to restart again, until he came to a sudden stop.

it took several paces for them yet to slow, kicking red dust in their wake; they swung their head around to donovan’s words, ears cupping forward with a huffed laugh of their own.

“you don’t want to make it a race?” renard smiled with their teeth, though by now they were both panting; the offer had no weight behind it. “lead the way. you can tell me of the other packs we’ve made such good friends.”