Redsand Canyon grow up, grow up, grow up, grow up

they’d enjoyed the rain at first; the heavy cloud cover providing shadow for their fur and a temperature marginally below boiling. now, with the canyon thoroughly flooded and no sign of the rain letting up, that opinion was beginning to change.

the irony did not make it any funnier.

renard’s paws squished in the sand with every step; they were very close to giving it up as a lost cause, if not for their own pride. but that was about all they had left to entertain themselves with, for another day of waiting and biding their time, and placing one foot in front of the other, testing the balance and the sound, they came around the corner of the canyon wall –

and stopped.

the slate-grey figure at the mouth of donovan’s den had not been among the gathering at ursus’ border. a brand new member then, and one who’d chosen an interesting place to pass the time.

and an interesting choice of member, but donovan's taste was questionable at best. half-dead wolfdogs, spies, cannibals, traitors. he couldn't be out of place, as frustrating as that was to admit.

“another new recruit?” renard’s gaze cut between him and the mouth of the cavern, smile already rising on their face. “looking for donovan?”