Redsand Canyon peccatus

The Imperator’s hip found the frame of the red wolf. Arsenio barked – his voice filled the canyon with a thrumming sound. Hearing Germanicus laugh was enough to continue his pace.

They raced through the canyon. Arsenio’s heart beat wildly with the speed they had set. He kept the pace well, but it had been a good deal of time since he had been placed in a dead sprint against an athletic opponent. All the patrols that he had made for Mereo did little to make him swift.

It was the thrill of the run that held him to it. The Greek did not nip or play with the Roman. He was invested in the movement of their bodies – a streak of dark and red fur streaking across the canyon floor.