Redsand Canyon down and out over the mount

rockin and rollin

They circled each other, recovering—the lull, temporary. Colin made the first move, ever silent; his aim was clear and Finley darted aside, dodging a tag. Straightforward, no trickery. Was he getting tired already?

Without pause she turned on him, charging; just before contact she turned, throwing her unbitten shoulder at his side with half her weight. Could he keep steady? Her attack would be swift if not.