Redsand Canyon the ritual pyre's sending smoke to the sky
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#1
forward dating to 7/17, making a tiny assumption about what renard would know :) open to any saints. finding some territories
early afternoon, 77F, clear

if renard had ever thought trees that wept blood was a foreign concept, they were certainly learning something about unfamiliarity now. though donovan had led them around some of the land that he – that renard – was now calling home, they hadn’t expected this much endless sand. blue skies, towering red canyon walls, and best of all, a wide array of plants that hurt you when you touched them.

so it was still, it seemed, perfectly fitting.

for someone who had grown up around snow and pine trees only, it felt like stepping into a whole new world. they hadn’t needed to cross the sea after all – just to walk for several months.

whether there were people to meet and speak to could be an event for later. if renard was expected to defend borders, it was essential that they knew the lands they were defending. the best places to set an ambush, and the best places to have an ambush set on you.

there weren’t many trees here, but there was plenty of scrub and cliffside, so they would practice walking along the ledges instead, keeping an eye to the sheer canyon walls. stalking quietly was an art they were already skilled in, though the sand was hot and shifted in an unfamiliar way under their paws, hissing against itself.

they walked, and walked, focused half on their movements and half on the sun-scorched earth around them, moving with more surety with each step. they could pick it up – wasn’t that the purpose of leaving home to begin with? new experiences. an exciting new world.

they walked until the sand had vanished, and in place, there was nothing but cracked, dry earth. wildflowers in all shades of yellow and purple and white clung to the fissures; instead of sand shifting under their feet, the dirt crumbled away like crusted ice over snow. the flat plain extended farther than they would have expected, devoid of rocks or shrub; the wind howled over them, and the sun beat down.

there would be no hiding here.


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Derg took to this territory like a slug to salt.
It was a hot basin that you'd expect to have more water on a mountain than it did, but no. He was wrong. This place was barren, wide and barren.
He wanted trees and closeness, places to stalk and hide in.

Alas, here he was, and alas didn't feel like leaving Donovan now.
A new recruit ahead was easy to spot - at least it would be easy to spot trespassers.
He barked, because he was too far away for a simple chuff to be sufficient, and started on a quicker pace towards his dark packmate, who he'd briefly met.

He slowed on approach, panting softly.
It was pretty toasty, but his thin fur kept him cool enough.
He brushed through the flowers, head slightly dipped to show he wasn't going to be a threat.
"Renard, right?" He went on to confirm. It'd be no good if he didn't get it right now.
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#3

however much renard might have preferred trees and thick brush, the cliffs gave off a deal of much-needed shade. trapped on this flat plain of sun and dehydrated dirt, it was becoming apparent that their thick black and brown fur – even shed of their winter coat – was not meant to deal with all the heat reflected off the ground and sand. they were already panting just to keep from overheating.

but it was important to know all of this territory. even if it was absolutely miserable to walk through. building character, though renard didn’t like to apply the phrase to themselves as much as to children for fun.

a bark somewhere behind their shoulder startled them from their steady walk towards the single rocky outcrop in the distance. one ear flicking back, renard turned, very much not expecting that an intruder would be this far into the saints’ lands, this region in particular.

the man walking towards them, likewise panting, was not entirely unfamiliar. they had been briefly acquainted during their arrival to the canyon. briefly. renard knew no more of him than they knew of the rest of the saints, with donovan’s possible exception.

they were not, of course, under the impression they had learned anything special about him. he had the air of someone who knew exactly what he was doing no matter how he acted while doing it, which they could respect.

“renard, yes.” smiling pleasantly, they inclined their head. “and you’re…” they hummed, “derg, correct?” they gestured towards his muzzle with their own, to his tongue hanging from between his teeth. “how are you enjoying the weather?”


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Derg waved his tail lightly, and gave a small smile through panting lips and lolling tongue.
He might look goofy if it weren't for his face really.

 Ge gave the confirmed Renard a nod, confirming himself as Derg.
"It's too hot," he replied, swallowing to soothe his dry throat. "I miss trees," he chuckled.
Ah, if only they hadn't had to move.

He could try and make it out here though. He'd probably stick to the softer sands and watered areas, but he'd still have to patrol and wouldn't neglect that duty for some discomfort.

"What 'bout yourself?" Perhaps some liked it here. Donovan certainly did even if his coat did make him a bit overheated.
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#5
the place renard is indicating is the oasis in this territory in case you want to describe it at all :)

renard knew that everyone knew the necessity of getting comfortable with their new home. they were not about to condescend to anyone about it, particularly when, on this baked-dry plain of little but dirt, they weren’t doing much better than derg himself.

“it’s harder to hide here,” they agreed. “or to find any shade.” they cast one eye up at the sun, hanging in the middle of the cloudless sky. here it was hard to even imagine that there was a place so cold that the snow never fully melted in the height of summer; harder still to imagine the pine forests just outside the mouth of the canyon.

“as miserable as it is now,” a smile, “we’ll get used to it. our intruders won’t be so lucky.” renard nodded to the rocky spire in the distance that they had been moving towards. “for now, if you’d like to accompany me, there might be some shade there?”


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Ty for the heads up
Indeed, there was little for them here.
He noted that some cracks may be large enough to wedge a small child in them.
Or for caches. Nah, not unless he wanted what he stored to dry up.

"Aye, well it's a good job for spotting intruders." He replied cheerily. A complete contrast to the wolf Donovan found.
Renard noted that intruders too will suffer, which was confirmed with a soft grunt.
Yeah, they would suffer on a hot day.

He looked to the spire, nodding. "Yeah, if there isn't shade we'll think of something else,"
but alas when they arrived they found something better than shade.
A pool of water, nestled under the tower, a glittering jewel in the starved land.

Derg entered the water, soothing his sore pads and chomping on water to help him cool off. 
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noon made shade difficult to come by at the best of times, but renard was hopeful for an overhang that would offer them a little cover from the sun. there was nothing else to find here. derg following along behind them, they covered the remaining distance to the crimson outcrop, and even before renard found the fissure in the stone wide enough to permit a wolf entry they could smell the fresh water.

the oasis glittered in the light. derg walked in, chomping at the water as he went, and after watching him a moment renard drank their fill and then slid in to follow, sinking their entire body beneath the surface until only their head remained visible. the palm trees clustered around the edge of the oasis rustled gently in the wind.

“not all bad, then.” renard huffed a laugh. they’d have to keep an eye on this place; it would make good cover for anyone passing through. though renard had to believe on the outside it was inhospitable enough to be worth a pass. they were here for one reason only.

after a few minutes had passed, peering over the water, renard spoke. “donovan has been getting around. he had no followers when i first met him.” they tilted their head. “why did you join?”
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Derg soon followed Renard's suit, slipping his body under the cool water too, though emerged again soon after as the cold dug into his skin.
He stood in the shallows and shook his fur free of water, humidity already warming him again.

"We will have to make this a patrol route." He commented, looking around the trees. It wouldn't be a bad route and would be fairly easy enough.

The question made his curious and inclined to answer.
"He found me sniveling in the woods, and made me see that I shouldn't be crying about it, but doing something like him. Rebuilding."
​He looked to the man in the water, approaching it again to sip at it more.
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#9
watching derg haul himself back onto shore, renard was impressed to hear the man echo their own thoughts so clearly, giving their own nod of assent. what would have been an uncomfortable route before was improved by this stopover; though there was still not much in the way of shade, there would be water waiting, and not much in the way of shade for anyone who decided to ignore their borders, either.

renard almost enjoyed expecting ambushes all the time, but they'd found they couldn't expect that of anyone else.

“he has a way of making you believe in his goal.” his goal could have been to burn the whole wilds to the ground; renard did what was asked of them, when someone was capable of commanding them to do so. a goal was secondary.

unlike derg, they remained largely submerged, though they did pull themselves closer to the bank so their neck and shoulders were exposed enough to drink, meeting his eyes when he looked over to them.

“did he ask you to fight him?” they asked wryly.
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Perhaps Donovan was manipulative. Perhaps not.
Derg felt like he owed it to him, and seeing as many disliked him, he wanted to look after him.
To help lick his wounds to keep them clean, to help share the burden of leading a pack.
Perhaps Derg had manipulated the brindle man, with sweet nothings, sultry looks and playful teasing.

He hummed low, now laying down in the shallows, letting soft ripples seep up and down his sides.
"Not on that day," nor the days after that, but he couldn't be bothered to say as much.
"Though I have since. And made him throw up," a soft, regretful smile pulled at his features. 
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#11
“he seems fond of it. not that i’m complaining.” renard ducked their muzzle into the pond to flick water over their face. “it’s a hobby of mine. no better way of judging someone than seeing how they fight.” they angled their head towards derg, smiling. “maybe you’re up for a spar?” with water nearby, instead of endless cracked dirt and sun, it was now an option.

up until they were sidetracked by his following admission.

renard barked a laugh. “you made him throw up?” not that this was funny on its own (well, maybe a little); they did not have the same…attachment...to the man that derg did, judging by the regretful smile on his face. “what did you do to him?”

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A good way to gauge people indeed.
To see if they were headstrong, or proud, or full of fury and hate. Or if they were calm, calculating, or rather fearful and softer in nature, not wanting to cause real harm.

"Sure, I'll spar," he replied breezily, standing and shaking the water from himself again, stepping from the shallows.
Renard started asking questions, and Derg offered him a wry smile before explaining.
"He had me on my back, straddling over me. So I double-barreled him in the gut."
He really did feel bad, but it was over and done now. He wasn't hated and Donovan didn't suffer after.

He faced Renard, quickly soothing over some of his fur before they started their war dance.
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#13
thread here!

“good.” renard offered him the languid curve of a smile, and filed derg’s answer to their second question away for future reference. it was always worth expecting you would have cause to fight without the training wheels on. they liked to be prepared. no problem in knowing every strength and weakness of every one of your packmates, right?

they were not aware of just how badly derg felt about what he’d accidentally done, of course. or his and donovan’s particular relationship. not yet.

the wolfdog stretched out in the water, jaws parting in a yawn before they got to their paws, licking water from their lips and shoulders as they padded back out onto the sand and shook out their fur. by now the little alcove was dappled with shadow cast by the fronds of the palms, dancing along their fur as they mirrored derg’s steps; circling him, looking for an opening.

their first thought was, again, the shoulder. the second was that they should be diversifying their technique, and that this was practice and perfect for it. they darted forward, their jaws angled at the last moment for his forelimb, but when they snapped shut it was on nothing but empty air.



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He knew it was likely the other would remember the technique Derg had briefly explained.
Who wouldn't? It was a last resort move he wished he hadn't used in that situation and won't again.
His tail waved softly, keeping his body only slightly curved to follow the stalking man.

This position helped him for the first expected move.
The shoulder.
A testing move that was often used to test reactions, speed. Derg sidestepped, though he was set to miss anyway. That was fine for Derg, no harm in being cautious.
He swung towards the man, his sights set on catching his scruff. What he'd do next he didn't know, but he'd figure it.

But, alas, Derg needed to figure something else as his hind leg gave way and he slipped down, short of his attack and on one knee already.
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their jaws, snapping shut over where derg’s leg had been, put them in perfect position for his teeth to descend on their neck. they yanked themselves bodily out of the way, spinning in place, as an animal might turn after its tail was stepped on, and –

– found him. leg buckled awkwardly underneath him. eyes locked on his hind limb, renard paused to watch him, ears forward, even as the part of them that had built a career out of this, seeing the weakness, urged them to swoop in and finish the fight before he could regain his footing.

in any situation where this wasn’t a spar, they would have. but it was a spar, and this was their packmate, and, ah, less polite tactics should be saved for when they were needed. nor did they need to show all the cards in their hand.

“having trouble already?” renard teased him, but they waited until he had regained his footing before they circled and lunged in again, mouth wide and mirroring his earlier attempt to grip their scruff – this time to the feeling of fur and skin caught between their teeth.

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He tensed, waiting for teeth as he gathered himself.
But none came.
Mercy?

He rose, wary.
Why did he not come down on him?
Though his words came and Derg just muttered incomprehensibly. 
He was truly an old grump after all.

He mirrored Renard again, but wasn't quick enough to deflect an attack on his scruff.
He had the bright idea of trying to flip him over by pulling him, but Renard stood fast and Derg was held tightly.
Damn.
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#17
teeth hooked into derg’s scruff, renard felt more than saw the way his shoulders tensed and lifted and just what that meant; they pulled back, hind legs planted on the ground, and though derg struggled – and though he was strong – he could do nothing more than jostle renard where they clung to him.

it was a good position they were loathe to give up. instead they tensed, hind legs planting harder in the dirt, and shoved the entirety of their (not insignificant) weight into derg via his neck in an attempt to bowl him over onto the ground, but just as they’d resisted his attempt to catapult them over his shoulders, he proved a surprisingly difficult obstacle to budge.

nonetheless, renard’s jaws remained in place.

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Sorry for the short posts
He couldn't free himself from them teeth.
He tried to pull this way, and Renard tried to push him that way and they stood like a pair of swaying oaks.

He didn't know what to try next except brute force.
So that's what he did.
Derg reared up, twisting his scruff out of the man's grasp and dove down onto the man, aiming to push his head down with teeth and paws.
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for a moment, they lingered, evenly matched. derg struggled to free himself and renard struggled to hold on. it was very difficult to do anything from this position; just before renard was about to let to, to try something else, the man reared up, twisting his scruff from renard’s grip – and probably leaving himself some painful tooth marks for his trouble – and coming down on their head.

head ducked as derg’s weight bore on top of them, renard lunged forwards with stiff legs in the hope of unbalancing him while he was still lingering in midair, forelimbs raised above them. but their position was awkward, and their head only weakly made contact with derg’s chest as the other shoved their head down with his paws.

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Renard practically crumpled under him but didn't give up, which was admirable.
He felt their head make contact with him, but it didn't do much to deter him.

Derg could feel the blood in his nape, but it didn't sting much; more like a dull throb.
Renard still struggled beneath him, so Derg lurched to the side, detaching them from combat for a moment. He wondered if that would be it, but wouldn't be sure until Renard either declared it to be or not to be.
Either way, Derg was ready to get back into the water for another soak.
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#21
this was not the position renard wanted to be in. they twisted, angling their jaws around as they searched for the next place to bite – and there were few of those guaranteed to release them while also not intended to be fatal.

they twisted in place for a moment, this way and that, and right before they could commit to their own attempt to buck him off, he released them, lurching to the side. renard’s head swiveled around after him – was he –

just like donovan had been in the forest, derg seemed to have gotten what he wanted. and from the collapse of his leg and the twist he had pulled to free his scruff from renard’s grip, they had as well.

also, the sun was still coming down, and combined with the exertion, they were fucking hot. they were willing to let it go.

“we do still have a walk to finish." renard inclined their muzzle in his direction as they slid past him and back into the water. “good fight.” a smile. “sorry about your neck.” the apology wasn’t particularly genuine, as they wouldn’t expect one to be for them, but it was polite.

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I'll end here if that's ok
And their spar came to an end.
He could gauge that Renard was a reasonable man and respected that.
Perhaps if war came, they would be formidable together.
Alongside the rest of the pack.
And their allies.

He smirked slightly, tail waving softly.
Their fight had been hard work, but now it was time to be settled, and Derg followed the man into the water, cooling off once more.
"Don't worry 'bout it," he replied, the cool water soothing the throb. It didn't bother him, only grounded him really.
He was still mortal, even after what he'd survived.

And soon after they were content with their break, the pair continued on their way to mark borders and talk more about the prospects of the pack.
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