Redsand Canyon but the room is so quiet

the rain had started only an hour ago. slow and gentle, filling the canyon up with the smell of wet dirt. the soft patter of rain was better than anything they’d found yet in this empty place to conceal the sound of their passage; they moved like a shadow beneath the spread of evergreen trees and redsand walls, aimless beyond the nebulous task of patrolling the borders.

it was getting boring.

it wasn’t that donovan had a vision to sell them on; it wasn’t that they were frustrated a promise hadn’t been fulfilled. he hadn’t offered anything beyond a place to serve, and the promise that it would not be for the weak. if he wanted to reclaim the saints’ glory days before the betrayal, that was his own problem, and one he could solve if he tried.

but it was growing old, being a blade no hand was wielding for their proper purpose. what use was a weapon when you left it to rust?

the border still had not been touched. it smelled only of the saints, even in the heavy rain, even after donovan’s…meeting with the court. under the shadow of the trees, renard turned away, nostrils flaring, and –

finley. the curve of renard’s mouth sharpened into a smile. what did she mean to do, out at the borders in the rain?

there was nothing here. nothing interesting. they did not hesitate to abandon their patrol; instead, low to the ground like the shadows that hid them, they prowled up the slope of the hill, out into the thickets of flowers. in the watery light of the moon, muted by clouds, darkness was everywhere; it loomed over them as they moved, a heavy presence that did not obscure finley’s march: a soldier’s tread through the flowers and into the night.

the exact same pace she had brought to nemisis’ execution. not the one she had brought to the chalice; not the one she had brought to the pass before.

they slipped behind her, trailing her steps, keeping pace for a few silent moments before they came to a stop. still several feet away when they finally lifted their head, ears forward, smile curling the edges of their lips.

“and where are you going?” renard asked. their voice, soft and drawn-out, only just rose above the gentle sound of the rain.