Redsand Canyon i will make myself steel

a fine mist colors the morning in drab shades of grey and haunting opalescent whites. it is cold; but not cold enough to freeze and a layer of moisture clings to mulberry's back as she follows the familiar path towards home.

only to find as she draws nearer to redsand canyon that it is occupied: the scents of wolves clinging to it and growing stronger with each mile she travels towards; unfamiliar.

the saints? she doubts it. there is not a single scent that she finds familiar as she stops; leaving a respectful distance between their scent markers and herself. dull gold gaze scans the red rock of the canyon ...just beyond her reach with a yearning.

even if the saints no longer lingered here, the canyon spoke to her in a way she could not put into words; could not truly examine. the bone deep desire to tread the sands of the canyon once more made up her mind for her; her head tipping back to let out a howl, alerting guardians and leaders that she was there.

tagging @germanicus and / or @ruenna