Redsand Canyon as the building continues to burn

sdfghjkl wouldn’t have guessed tbh! thank you for the thread as well; it’s been a fantastic challenge >:3

Thus ground had been ceded, a barely-spoken agreement come to; Renard’s hand, authentic or not, was tipped along with his muzzle. Something resembling their charade kept up nonetheless, by a thread, just for kicks. As suspected he would be careful indeed—and of course he’d deserve what was coming should a mutiny fail, Finley wouldn’t be the one to question that. She’d always assumed rebellion foolish, on principle, and if pressed would stand by it even now. But, as began many a self-justification, this was different. These leaders had not earned their position; uprising was not merely inevitable, but warranted in its absence.

Still, one couldn’t just plow into authority and hope to escape unscathed. They needed a plan, safeguards against retribution. Renard might not have Finley today, on the basis of a single conversation, but he had her interest. For the time being, perhaps that was enough.

“Curious to see how you handle them.” Frankly, so was she. Knowing this was on the table, vague a not-quite-offer as it was, somehow both settled and gnawed at her. The desert oasis shimmered, promising and ever-tempting—but if it turned into dust before their eyes, the journey was not worthwhile and the efforts of travel wasted.

Regardless, Renard would watch. That much was a promise. Finley, resolute, met his eyes; he was hungry. But if he knew these canyons well as he acted, he wasn’t starving. She would not be the one to feed him, not for now.

With that Finley dipped her head; as would she, as if to say, though of course she wouldn’t; she had better things to do than keep track of her packmates, beyond merely knowing they existed and having a conversation or two to get to know them. Ha, better things. Like ruminating. This had given her much to chew on.

Out of habit Finley stood, ready to leave without another word—yet something compelled her not to turn her back on Renard, at least not without a closing statement. Simple farewells, however, had never been Finley’s forte. “I’m sure you will,” she said. “Stay sharp.”

Unless Renard had more to say (and really, didn’t they both?), Finley would leave him in the chalice. Barbed walls promised to leave her with more tokens of their encounter, newcomer’s vigilance be damned. Such was life.