Sunspire Mountains the things that you've got coming will consume you

renard stopped. ears flicking, head swiveling as they tasted the air. in front of them, derg and colin noticed too; the procession came to an abrupt halt, and in the lingering pause, head rolling forward, they followed after. an eagerness colored their steps – a hope that this was one of the saints’ many enemies, offered so perfectly up to them.

the scent grew thicker as they wound through the trees. the valley opened up ahead, thinning into a grass-covered bank, a shallow brook that wound through the dirt. a large figure the color of wet mud, who slid into the river as renard broke the cover of the trees.

eyes fixed on the body half-submerged in the water, the gleam of open wounds just visible on his flank. they weren’t impressed by their find. just some kid who’d stuck his nose in something he shouldn’t have. by the looks of it he wouldn’t live to learn his lesson.

they took another half-dozen steps forward. inhaled. muted by time and water and blood, the smell that lingered on his coat was unmistakable, even if they didn’t know his face.

it wasn’t surprising that one of them had ended up like this already. they weren’t making friends here. something faintly amused coiling in their chest, they looked over their shoulder for the rest of the entourage emerging from the trees, expecting them, at least, to recognize this saint.