Redsand Canyon And all I want is a little hope

Foorrr @Renard

He was a little shaken from the recent events.
Donovan had taken leave to talk to other packs, Nemisis had gone missing, and Derg was seemingly left in charge.
If Donovan didn't return, he wouldn't know what to do.
All except war.

He sipped water from the falls, the water drowning his termoiling mind.
He needed peace for a few seconds.
And a distraction.

things were messy. that was an understatement. but nemisis’ absence had benefits, as long as she did stay away. less to clean up when she inevitably went off the deep end, less people fighting amongst themselves. if there was something renard found frustrating, it was packmates too busy squabbling to pay attention to a real threat; all they regretted was that she had left, instead of being met with the consequence of her actions.

derg would have more sense. exactly how much more sense he had was up in the air, and they meant to find out before things declined even further. they wouldn’t underestimate an enemy with more people and more ties. donovan leaving on his own, to meet people who loathed them, was a bad idea. he could come back fine; he could come back half-dead.

he might not come back at all.

they followed his scent through the scrub and sand, winding a path down to the falls. silent, now, only a barely-audible crunch of paws against gravel. sticking to the shadows, still; it was the height of summer, and everything was still scorchingly hot, especially under the baking heat of the afternoon sun.

the sound of the falls reached them before anything else. it muffled their steps as they came to the edge of the lake, watching the saints’ new overseer as he sipped at the water. mist curled up and around them both like a cloak, pleasantly cool on renard’s face.

“overseer,” they said, putting an edge to their voice to rise above the roar of the falls, though it did not at all water down the dryness of the next words. “i hate to interrupt."

He saw Renard's dark form sidle in along the edge of the water.
He spared him a glance, checking him over, and returned to his deep thinking for a few more moments.
He closed his eyes, lifting his crin, letting the spray settle on his neck.
The sun beam down onto his muzzle.

And sighed.

Renard spoke, and Derg couldn't help but feel..a twist of guilt at the title.
Overseer.
Could he have stopped this? Perhaps. Was he there? No.

He turned hsi head, opening his eyes.
Derg snorted at his words, "I'm sure you would," he replied. Renard didn't seem to be one to care much for who he bothered, and Derg didn't mind that.
"What do you require?"
He asked, turning his body to face him.

renard took two steps into the water. a mirror of the first time they’d met, and fought, back on the plains. this time they reserved the invitation; they watched him as he lifted his head into the spray, sighed, and turned to face them.

there were better things to be doing than bathing in the falls at a time like this, but their place wasn’t to question. not out loud, not yet. he spoke, and standing quiet and ankle deep in the lake, renard met his eyes.

“donovan left you orders, i assume. what to do while he’s gone. …what to do if he doesn’t come back.” there was little concern audible in the the words, a thoughtful hum trailing off as they drew their head back against their neck. their gaze swept over derg, over his place in the rushing water; a pointed observation without words. “are you ready to lead or not?”

Derg nodded.
Yeah, Donovan had said as much.
He wanted Derg to look after them. Hold their ground.
He didn't know if that would be the right move, but Derg would accept.
Unless he could be persuaded.

"We are to stay here, and fight any invaders. If he does not return by the turn of the next moon, we are to assume his death."

It was longer than Donovan said to give him, but Derg wanted to give him some more time.
But his second question? Was he ready?
"Fuck no," he chuckled. But he wound and could, if they needed him to.

rolls here! using the same thread.

a moon was a long time to wait, but after their conversation, however brief, it was not a surprise derg would be willing to put up with it. was that a good trait in a leader? it depended. they could reserve judgment until that moon had passed – perhaps donovan would appear long before then, none the worse for wear.

they doubted it.

“you’re very willing to admit that.” renard took a further step into the water, looking for all the world unbothered. their muzzle dipped to the surface, mouth open to drink. both eyes lingered on derg as he stood there; as, satisfied, they lifted their head once more to face him again.

and then, uncoiling without even so much as a growl, launched themselves after him. jaws open, teeth bared, seeking to curve around his muzzle. if he was going to lead the saints against intruders, against the looming threat of a war – words were only half of it, and renard was not impressed by humility. they were impressed by nothing so much as his ability to back up the title he’d been given.

Perhaps he was willing to admit it.
Perhaps it was because he was scared to fuck up and wanted to throw the reins at someone else, to alleviate himself of responsibility for the others lives.
"Better to say now than to deny it and fuck up," he replied softly.
He knew, and he wanted the others to know that he may not be the best, and he would not be dissalusional to think he was perfect for the job, when some days he woke up and it took everything to actually get up and work for the pack.
Perhaps it was Donovan that kept him going.

Getting up in the mornings would be harder.

A thrashing slapsh, and Derg's eyes alighted of his packmate turned assailant.
Did he think Derg was weak and shouldn't lead after his admission, and wanted to do so for himself?
He was about to open his mouth to meet his attack, but jaws closed around his muzzle in dominance.
He stood still, tail high and waving in disapproval.

He rumbled low, giving the man, who he thought was posing a real challenge rather than a test, a warning. He didn't want to end up hurting Renard. Or getting himself hurt.

renard had no idea what thoughts were leading him. this was not a refusal to put all your cards on the table – they could have understood that.

it didn’t matter whether derg wanted to be in charge or not. he was.

and yet he raised his tail and growled when their jaws slammed closed over his muzzle, prepared to defend a position he admitted he was not ready for.

their teeth squeezed until they were moments away from breaking the skin, and then withdrew. satisfied, renard turned their back to him with pointed disinterest and stepped away until they had reached the edge of the water again, turning only once they stood against the shore.

“and you sit under a waterfall and wait?” there was no anger – just something snakelike, curious and probing. “what are you hoping for, admitting that to me?” their voice softened into amusement. “do you think it’ll make me sympathetic? mistakes are mistakes. it doesn’t matter if you know you’re going to make them.”

Renard squeezed tighter.
And tighter.
He snapped his head up just as Renard released him, bristling, tail curling.

He wanted to see what he'd do.
Derg didn't do much.
He thinks he's weak, he shouldn't be in this position, shouldn't have the power Donovan gave him.
Derg didn't want to prove it to Renard, but perhaps an example would be good.
Then the words came, hot and hard.

Derg stalked over to Renard, a small spot of blood welling on his nose where he'd thrown his head up.
"I don't care for your sympathy, I sit here, and I think abotu how to not make a mistake."
He glared at the man entering the water.
"Come here." He stated after a short pause. Staring at the man.

their words had the desired effect. derg’s eyes lit; he stalked forward, blood welling above the curve of his muzzle. the puncture of a tooth through the skin. an eager anticipation welled in renard’s chest, like a vulture sighting a dying animal – waiting for the right moment to swoop down.

perhaps there was something here after all. if there was, renard would make him show it. shoulder turned to derg, still, their eyes locked with his, the lift of their tail a blatant challenge. prove it. show me you’re worth this faith.

renard did not move. they smiled at him, lips peeling away from their teeth.

“are you sure that’s not a mistake?”

He stood there, leering.
Testing him.
His heart shook his ribcage. He wasn't ready for this. To be challenged as a leader.
A leader.

Be fair to your subjects, and their loyalty will stretch for miles.
His sister had said that to him, before she'd left.
She thought he'd become the Alpha.
Derg wasn't a leader, but he had to try, with the trust Donovan placed in him.

He licked the spot of blood away, sighing.
His gaze softened. He should not be angry when challenged. It was something that happened.
"I'm sorry," he replied at last. His fur smoothing down now.
"I will be better, and you can tell me how if you want." 
But he wouldn't stand for Renard to disrespect him. He left it unsaid because however, he would say it, it would be wrong.

at least he was smart enough not to run his mouth; one thing renard could approve of. thinking before you spoke was in short supply around here. it was probably half of the problem to begin with.

so derg subsided. the anger was visible, flooding out of him – fur smoothing, tail uncurling, like it was taking a conscious effort to calm himself down. something he shouldn’t even have let them see but, still staring, they let him. let their lip fall back to cover their teeth.

he could be patient. he could try and think things through. if this was nemisis renard had descended on, she would have already been doing her level best to rip their throat out for good measure. an improvement, at least. good. that's something.

even if they’d had to tell him his mistake to his face. they could teach, when someone was willing to listen.

but no lesson was easy. even if renard had all the answers, they weren’t there to be spoon-fed. “you’ll be better,” they repeated. “how do you plan to do that?”

We can fade here if you want

They both sunk into wary neutrality.
Regarding each other with caution. Derg respected Renard, but Donovan has placed trust in Derg first.
They'd both have to accept that.

He thought, briefly, about calling for a hunt.
A hunt would be a good way to bring the pack together.
They'd need prey though and may have to search for it. Canyon life would be hard.

Renard asserted that Derg would. be. better.
He licked his lips, looking up the falls.
Where the water ran off the edge and thundered down below.

"I won't be like Nemisis."
He softly smiled, looking back to Renard. He could come close to it - just had. But no. No, he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't rip another packmate apart for the sake of dominance.

i won’t be like nemisis.

that was the least renard could have asked. how unfortunate that this was a high bar in the saints when it came around to leadership. they stood there and watched derg, watched him smile at them as though that was all he’d needed to do to solve the problem.

“so i’m supposed to take your word,” renard said flatly, pointedly enunciating each word as they spoke them. “i’ll need a little more than that. guess you’ll understand if i keep an eye out."

they were standing very close now. renard had come here for a purpose, even if derg was proving more level-headed than they’d expected. “you gave up fast in our last spar. that’s not an option for you now.”

a second passed. then, turning, renard’s jaws snapped open, aiming for the side of derg’s face.

No, he didn't blame Renard at all.
He wouldn't trust himself, but those were boots to fill.
Derg had never actually helped lead a pack before.

"Gimme a minute to prove myself," he chuckled softly.
He hadn't really been faced with a challenge yet. Except for Renard's scrutiny. Which was fine.

The next words from Renard earned a questionable tilt of the head before he came streaking for him.
Blonde.
All he saw were those jaws yearning to slice his face, to maim him and hurt him. Deform him.
He reacted lighting fast - faster than ever - and slammed his jaws down on Renard's own, not caring where his teeth landed, but knowing that doing so stopped him being hurt.
He then twisted his body around, aiming to slam him into the ground, letting go of his muzzle in the process so he didn't get dragged down.

finally – for once – someone fought back like it mattered.

donovan spent too much of his time playing. they’d been worried derg was going to be the same, after the oasis.

they’d hoped he’d be different. maybe a little touchy about the scars. renard had seen more than one person react badly to that – sometimes they locked down, and sometimes they got angry. exactly the point of this choice of target.

derg was the second type. their teeth scraped along his face, right over the old scars, and with impressive speed, he spun around and struck. his jaws snapped shut over renard’s muzzle – how cute, he was learning – and he twisted, putting all his weight behind –

– oh. that’s what he was going to try?

renard let him, laughing as derg slammed them into the ground. the impact forced the breath from their lungs, but they’d had worse; twisting in place in the wet sand, they drew their hind legs back and kicked out hard at derg’s stomach.

he’d been so upset about doing it to donovan. they wouldn’t have the same problem.

Renard went down.
Derg, after detaching, followed for his second attack, ready to go for his face.
See how he liked it.
But before he could deliver his next bite, legs kicked up into his gut.

A hard, powerful movement that yielded not, making his head jerk up, spluttering and winded.
Derg staggered sideways, away from Renard.
He really should not have told him that.
Derg retched, but nothing thankfully came up. He almost crumpled, the pain great.

He recovered enough though, enough to glare at Renard. He looked so fucking smug.
Derg watched him, shifting defensively, to protect himself this time.

renard’s paws thudded satisfyingly into derg’s stomach. in an amusingly perfect mirror of what they imagined must have happened the first time around, he staggered away, crouched and retching over the water; with an incredibly smug smile, renard got very pointedly back to their paws, studying derg appraisingly as he curled up around himself.

“next time, be a little more careful with the information you give out, hm?” stepping in a slow half-circle around their overseer, renard gave the words a long few moments to sink in before, spinning on their heel, they charged him.

left the face alone, this time – he handled that too well. instead, they slammed the full force of their body weight into his side – hoping this time, with the leadup, it would be enough to knock him to his back in the shallows. a perfect position to clamp their jaws down over his throat and pin him, careful to keep their underbelly out of the way of his hind legs.

He was just goading him now.
Derg wasn't above torture. But he was not Nemisis. Renard could push him all he wanted, but until Donovan felt like they were strong enough to stake a claim, Derg and Renard were on the same level.
At least until Nemisis, but that's the future.

Currently, his 'power' was temporary.
A taste of what he may have to do.
"Last time I help you," he replied. Still with a joking tone, thinking that Renard was done with kicking his ass.
But of course not. Did he want to be fucked up?

Renard bowled him over, sending him into the water, holding him by the throat under it.
All he could hear was the rushing of his head, the thundering of water in the distance.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't do this.

He swung his jaws up, hoping to grab Renard's scruff and throw him into the water too.
He felt his teeth dig into something -- wet fur and flesh.
He pulled, rolling himself over and on top of Renard, who he hoped wouldn't be able to surge out of the water beneath his smaller form.

well, at least he was learning. whether or not he held to that remained to be seen. the saints, so far, proved surprisingly eager to spell out every detail of their life stories for renard to pick over like the proverbial vulture – and they were glad to do it.

but at some point, someone had to learn a lesson. maybe this was derg’s.

maybe not.

derg hit the water with a heavy splash; renard was right behind, jaws coming down around his neck. they caught in the soft fur, around loose flesh, and they held him there – underwater, the roar of the waterfall echoing around them.

there was always something satisfying about holding life in their jaws like this. all they’d have to do was hold him – all they’d have to do was bite down – and that would be it. nothing left but dead meat. as always, part of them wanted to – but this was the overseer, and that wasn’t their job.

their jaws loosened, prepared to let him free. and whatever it was – some survival instinct finally kicking in, or maybe he was just willing to play dirty as well – derg surged up after them, dripping water, and in that moment they were relaxed enough not to suspect, he grabbed hold of their scruff and, with a wrench of his body, flipped them into the water.

the water rushed in. over their head and eyes, but they could still breathe – after the first startled jolt of their heart, the sharp rise of their breath that had their forelimbs scrambling for purchase without their control, they calmed enough to let him hold them there, the still, exposed line of their throat under the water as clear a surrender as any.

Teeth on his neck certainly scared him.
Would Renard kill for Overseer? Probably.
Which gave him enough incentive to retaliate, even when the man was withdrawing. Especially since he hadn't stopped when Derg already had his ass handed to him.

He flipped over into the water easy enough, the ripples spreading out until they lost energy and dissipated into nothing.
There wasn't peace on these shores. Mindlessness, perhaps, but not peace.
The water thundered down too hard.

He struggled for a few moments as Derg held him, then stilled.
If Derg really wanted, he could drown him. Clamp his jaws around Renard's head and push him down hard into the water.
And keep him there.

But he didn't, and after a few moments of motionless, Derg let go and sprang away from Renard, a haughty cough and splutter from his time underwater.
He turned his head back to look at Renard, expecting him to be emerging from the water now.

Derg quickly started to trot away, looking back to the path ahead.
Fuck Renard. And fuck being drowned again.

renard had no interest in overseer. they had no interest in leading. they had an interest in taking the measure of the people around them – and maybe it was the water, maybe the lingering anger over the bite to his face, maybe the teeth around his throat, but unlike their last spar, something had made derg act.

a chuckle rose from the base of their chest and into their throat. the roar of the water over their ears drowned out the sound. was he thinking the same thing they had? how easy it would be to bleed the life away?

the teeth around their throat released. derg pulled away. they lifted their head to his spluttering and coughing; he staggered through the water, and the minute their eyes met he turned and ran.

snorting water, renard rolled to their feet and onto the bank. they watched only long enough, smile bright with teeth, to see him round the canyon wall and vanish from sight; then, shaking the water from their fur, they turned the other way. satisfied.

his loyalty to donovan was a shame. otherwise he might have offered an option.