Redsand Canyon Time Is A Tool

As he lazes about, allowing his dark pelt to soak up the heat of the sun, something he will regret within the hour when he begins to overheat. He’s almost asleep when a plume of fine dust tickles his nose and a dull thump of something being dropped in front of him alerts the sleepy male. Cracking open his eyes and squinting them in the already too bright sunlight he looks to the animals present to him, then scent comes to his nose. What is that? He wonders and a crease dares to form between his brows. Sex and blood it is then. Instantly he hears the tell tale voice of his partner and then her weight at his side. It’s comforting yet he wanders how she did to smell like that.

So he cranes his head over to her and lets his squinting eyes wander over her form. Nothing seems too out of place. What the hell? Is the only thing flirting through his head. She’s fucking obsessed with me but won’t fuck me before running off and fucking someone else? Is one of many thoughts that slip into his head.

“Morning, hon’.” He hums gently. “What in god’s name did you do last night?” He asks with the ghosting of a playful smirk on his maw. 

Then he’s temporarily distracted by the form of another passing by. Noticing it’s none other than Renard his smirk becomes much more mischievous. “Renard.” He calls to them. “Come fucking smell her and tell me what first thing you catch is.”