Moonspear only i, to welcome back.

There was something chilling that Bronco thought he heard in Desdemona's voice that he might've likened to the sting of frostbite. The guard hairs along the back of his neck bristled and stiffened as she breathed a syllable that caused him to recall previous warnings. He nodded, humming softly as he contemplated her experience, though he took a moment to cast his gaze over her as though to check for any sign of injury. She'd said that she'd been told about the Saints, not that she'd encountered them- and thus far, they were little more than a legend, a myth, a nightmarish tale to tell young ones before they slept to frighten them into obedience. But he doubted the peace would last long. 

"News of the Saints travelled here while you were away. We met one of their spies," he said, though the skepticism in his tone might have hinted at how skeptical he was about the proficiency of said spy. "No idea on where they live, though?" He asked. While they seemed to be haunting the land, as far as Bronco knew, they didn't seem to have given up their whereabouts.