Redsand Canyon in the favor of wrongs being remedied

@Hela whenever you’re available for a spar :)
forward dated to beginning of august. 71F, 11am, cloudy. territory #3 - dead dragon lake

the sun had been scarce, these past few days. it suited them fine; they would never enjoy the weather here, no matter if they were used to it. still blanketed in a thick cover of cloud, casting heavy shadow over the desert, they stalked along the edge of the bank, the careful tread of paws on gravel near soundless.

they smelled the lizard before they saw it, scuttling through the grass and sand. their steps did not falter; they ducked their head, breathing slow and even, and followed it along. the air was still eerily still, windless and heavy; it noticed them only when they were already descending upon it, far too late to escape.

it disappeared in a flash of teeth, splintering under their jaws. snapping their head back to swallow it down, renard leapt onto the overhang of rock jutting over the bend in the river, licking blood from their teeth as they settled back.

nemisis was frustrating at best, and it would have been wiser to wait, but renard could not – would not – lie and say the threat of violence looming like the rainclouds above wasn’t a welcome one. it had never before been this long since they were last sent to kill, and for who the saints were, nobody seemed that keen on an actual spar.

the stark otherness of this place and the beauty that comes with it is beginning to give way to the realities of carving out a life here. prey is scarce, or at least, far different than that she is used to hunting. most prey exists in the scaled, sinewy and small form that she is decidedly not fond of. still, the canyon remains interesting, though she does not know how long the novelty of it will last before it gives way to annoyance and indifference. 

the melonii trails along a river that begins now to steadily widen, considering the war that donovan had mentioned. she wants to understand it, its causes and it's future. donovan's failure to elaborate on the reasons for it irk her; she knows it can not have begun with a single fight between warriors. she id interested too in the business he'd mentioned, the one said warrior had thought his own. until she understands fully what had led donovan's saints to flee to this place, she is hesitant to consider this any more than a waypoint. 

before her, something moves, alighting on an overhang of rock. a wolf, dark, scarred, and in possession of the same tail donovan had curled over his back. this one too appears significantly shorter than her, to her dull pleasure. her father had not offered her much in the short time he'd appeared in her life, but the height she'd inherited was all she needed from him. she chuffs, a low sound as she draws nearer, drawing to a stop. molten gaze flicks up to trace over the male before her, wondering why the large part of donovan's group she'd already met seemed just a little off in their appearance.

with head suspended over their paws, it was no trouble to catch sight of the wolf approaching. renard’s eyes lingered on her as she tracked along the edge of the river – an unfamiliar face, but donovan’s followers poured into the canyon day after day and a sniff of the air confirmed that this was no stranger. whether she was an enemy…that remained to be seen.

she was taller than they were, even at a glance and hardly a surprise. one heavily scarred limb visible – maybe other injuries hidden by the way she drew to a halt, masking most of her body from easy view. they could not deny the curiosity as to what had placed them there; donovan preferred his saints with a taste for blood.

“i don’t think we’ve met.” they did not move beyond a slow flare of their nostrils. “renard.” a considering pause as their gaze traced the deep scars in her leg. thinking of riley, the long white-rimmed wounds carved down into his side. they doubted she had made his same mistake.