Redsand Canyon as the building continues to burn

narration’s just using “he” unless/until Finley learns otherwise

There were refuges among the mountains; this wall of cacti was not one them them. Finley had taken to the canyons like a trout in a desert, but it was high time she got over herself and readjusted. Besides, a packmate’s scent wound through the spike-infested growths, and she was long overdue in familiarizing herself with the other new Saints.

If there was an advantage to long fur in the desert, it meant that the pricks got caught among hairs as she passed; provided she was careful with her paws, they made little contact with skin. Unfortunately navigating a hillside of cacti was nothing like weaving through trees and undergrowth, and by the point the land opened again, Finley’s pelt was adorned with needles. Lovely first impression!

She announced her presence with an equally-unsubtle shake, ejecting some of the looser spines, and began her descent towards the middling excuse for an oasis. From the pack meeting Finley recognized the stranger, if not by name then by tail. He and Colin had stayed on the sidelines, watching the romantic drama of the leadership unfold, which made him as good a candidate for resumed meet-and-greets as any—someone, presumably, with a head on his shoulders.

As she drew nearer Finley also noted that the hybrid’s fur, thick and dark like her own—how half the pack hadn’t died of heatstroke was beyond her—was largely free of the cacti’s defenses. “How’d you get through here?” she asked, before standing a fair distance away for a drink. Even the water was warm. What a home.