Redsand Canyon days of creation

finley’s snout inclined right back to them, though her words remained directed at colin. fair was fair. renard’s smile widened a fraction, catlike as it already was; the focus of their shared gaze broke, and they turned their attention back over to the last member of their impromptu standoff.

the quiet stretched. finley on one side, renard on the other. if they were a kinder person they might have felt bad for colin, caught awkwardly in the middle of a fledgling (and thoroughly unnecessary) cold war. as it was, they barely knew the man; they turned to him with an appraising curiosity limning their violet gaze.

that was something that needed to change.

that thing still hovered between them, and renard could see no more of it than they had before. “if you want.” an amused looseness to their voice, but the following offer came slow and curious – dipping a toe into the water before diving in. “looking for a spar?”