Wheeling Gull Isle so get on your feet when you hear that sound

@Hide
6pm, partly cloudy, 49F

it had taken weeks of combing redsand canyon up and down before renard had felt they actually knew it as well as they should. and here, particularly when nobody trusted them, it was essential they learned as much about yuèlóng as they could – and how to outmaneuver them, if it became necessary.

this seemed as good a way as any to start.

and mostly it was all rock and sea and salt. no better defense than water stretching for miles. the saints had their canyon, all its steep sides and sun-scorched plains and cactus fields – not that they thought donovan would have bothered thinking tactics for his choice of home. 

the cover this place offered wasn't any better. renard wasn't fond of open spaces. too few shadows. too much open ground where they could be seen. the coast had, at least, a few good spikes of rock, and it was the shadow of those renard stuck to as they scouted, nostrils flaring to pick anything up beyond the smells of salt and sea.

new challenges. those had sounded so much more interesting when they'd first left the court. now they were becoming unfortunately routine.

and renard was not fond of routine.