Shadow Mountain nor the warrior for her glory

the saints had been chased from one home already: it seemed more likely that moving from place to place was what they would become, until donovan wised up enough to pick one enemy without calling down an avalanche on his head. or until something else happened.

which was fine. renard was not exactly attached to the sunspires – the canyon was miserable by anyone’s terms, though at least that made it miserable for both the rest of the pack and for anyone who came traipsing after them. not picking a fight that you couldn’t win was a smart move, particularly when it was over sunbaked sand and rock.

head lifting, renard barked a laugh. of course nemisis wasn’t the sole weaver of chaos and hostility – what a way of putting it. donovan had picked her up and declared her his second hand, which made him just as complicit; the rest of them had seen that and decided to follow – but they'd been straining at the leash and he'd wised up by the end, so who knew? praimfaya could decide that on her own – they hadn’t made the distinction either. it would be an interesting experience for both of them.

another potential threat to add to the list was hardly worth mentioning by now, but mention they would. “that will be up to him, won’t it?” renard inclined their head. “it was good meeting you again.” their smile twisted the corner of their mouth. “a shame about the circumstances.”