Redsand Canyon she held her pose

roll here!

not so long ago, renard would have been willing to give finley’s thoughts of mutiny directly to donovan if he’d asked. for all their half-formed ideas and plans they were, in the end, loyal, when it came down to it. but donovan had not asked, and he’d welcomed in praimfaya without a second thought, and derailed renard’s final attempt to tell him, in as direct a fashion as they could manage, that this wasn’t working by flirting instead.

if he wanted this knowledge – and wasn’t it staring him right in the face? – he could come to it himself.

they glanced down over the water. her paws were already stained – their own dark fur kept much from being visible. it reminded them distinctly of ravensblood forest.

“how fitting,” renard said, wryly. for her or the saints? for what donovan wanted the saints to be? maybe all three.

they wound their way forward as she tensed, watching them approach with frost-pale eyes. “i have,” renard said, smiling, and came forth without further hesitation for her right shoulder this time, atop the new wounds someone had placed since their last spar in the meadow.