Redtail Rise We all see the door, hoping it'll open something in a major way.

Set present day, referencing this.

A month ago, Masquerade had thrown a fox in Riley's face and later suggested he bring it to Redd. Riley had sat on the fox pelt since. It was not that he was lazy -- he lacked the social grace to casually and randomly gift something to someone else. Even he, in his infinite practicality, could admit the pelt was pretty. And now that the Rise's former Wealda was dead, he thought it almost looked portentous.

Red, like Avicus' flame-stirred pelt.

Red, like the sun as it sank past the horizon after she died.

Red, like the tension that groaned and creaked and snarled and snapped between every body in the Rise.

And finally, red like the blood held between Redd's teeth as she stood down Masquerade.

Riley sought her on stilted limbs. This was, truthfully, not his errand -- but Masquerade had told him to do it, and it was some admission of failure on his part he had waited so long. Life had a funny way of passing by quickly; he was sure Avicus could attest to that.

I was told to bring this to you. Riley spoke as he found her. He pushed the deep mahogany pelt of the fox to the Rise's new Wealda, his eyes averted but no less watchful.