Redsand Canyon the day pressed on like crushing weights

They left.

It was his choice to follow after them or to stay behind, and so he stayed, minding the canyon by his lonesome if he had to. There was no reason that Sivugat could understand that made Nyra leave; he did not trust the road outside of this red place, and so the boy did not go anywhere.

He stuck to the communal den for a day or two, lounging in his solitude. He took to timing himself and racing about the place as a means of entertainment, counting methodically until he grew bored. Mindless, and now hungry, Sivugat paced outside to where he knew others had traced patrols along the heights.

Somewhere he would find a cache and dig it up. Perhaps there was one by the pool of water — so Sivugat's life went, taking his time to meet his needs and making choices for himself. It was a new experience to be sure, and one he wasn't keen about.

The Saints left, and Ursus came.

@Arielle was scouting somewhere nearby. They had spotted the red canyon from the peaks the day before, but their path carried them away from the fallen Crowfeather, so they never came across Nyra's carnage, either. Blood on the wind, surely, but both of them were wise enough to avoid that, knowing it was likely the Saints' feast. By the time the pair were satisfied with the neutrality of their combined scents, the Saints had picked up and moved on, leaving only one behind for Aventus to discover.

He knew it was unwise to travel so close to their claim. This was not what Aventus was here for. And yet the closer he was, and the more of them he could smell — and there were not so many of them as he remembered, when he began to pick through those scents — the more his rage grew. The more the face of his mother drifted in his mind, and the more hungry he grew for vengeance, and the more reckless Aventus became.

So much so that he crossed their borders entirely in the midmorning, slinking along in the shadows of the canyon, and that was how he found Tuur, digging in the red dirt. The man's backside was unmistakeable. No sign of the other Saints, but Aventus held himself poised on the balls of his feet anyway. They could arrive at any moment. He would have to be swift if they did.

Tuur, he said, his face a dark cloud.

Elbow-deep in a pit of red clay, and only bones to show for it. Rotten and dry. Sivugat rose from his stooped position and braced himself along the edge, feeling his claws grip at the dirt just as a familiar voice drawled his way. His shoulders were sore from the work. His mood was foul, seeing as he hadn't eaten in a couple of days and the caches were so pitiful. To hear that voice caused anxiety to coil in his gut — an unease shot up the back of his neck.

The boy turned his boorish mass around so that his good side faced the figure, and when he saw the shape of Aventus, moved further so that he could face him head-on. Whatever animosity Sivugat held for Aventus and his sister felt far away from him in the moment, replaced by a strong fear instead, the kind that a child might have for the monster under their bed.

Aventus. He could not look the other wolf in the face. Speaking his name felt taboo too, but Sivugat had grown at least a little more bold since his banishment. Whatever little joys he experienced while alone here in the canyon were forgotten immediately.

What're you doin' here? While Sivugat had not forgotten about the valley or Avicus, he had not expected to see anyone from that part of his life ever again, not after being left to the Moonglow wolves. Having the princeling here before him was unexpected.

The boy's lips curled upward at the sight of Tuur. Larger than he, certainly a threat if he wanted to be, but the stonehewn wolf kept his gaze turned downward, appropriately submissive. Whatever capability that strong frame lent the other boy was lost under what appeared to be a meek manner. Like prey, like he always had been.

Aventus prowled closer, with one eye and both ears keeping careful watch on his surroundings. One wrong shadow and he would be gone. Traveling with my companion, keeping an eye on some old friends, he said in a slow and measured voice. That was true enough. Arielle was somewhere close by, searching elsewhere in the mountains for a trace of the Saints. He tilted his head and regarded Tuur's missing ear.

And what are you doing here, in the den of the Saints? He elongated the syllables of the last word, rasping it hatefully between his teeth with a flick of his tongue. Father has been looking for you. He would be quite disappointed to know you were here, he added, and that was also true. He dare not reveal that he knew what had happened in Moonglow, though.

While he moved, Sivugat tracked him with his remaining ear. It was perhaps the only part of himself that moved at all, except his sides, as he took the time to measure his breaths.

To hear Aventus talk of a companion, Sivu thought immediately of Avicus, having not been around to see the dissolution of the sibling's relationship or the growth of their rivalry; but he lifted his eyes slightly to train upon the dark boy's core, attentive and cautious, when the thought of the girl arrived to him.

His question was met with hesitation. Sivugat's jaw tensed. He thought of what he could say and then as Merrick was mentioned, he lost the willpower to speak up, his tongue suddenly heavy. It took another few seconds before Sivugat could speak at all again, and his voice carried an empty, measured quality.

I was hurt, and desperate. A woman came to me and offered me a place to recover. The same tale over and over, for Sivugat. First it had been Kukutux the witch - then Nyra the betrayer. Thinking of either of them made the boy's shoulders tense further and the fur of his nape to bristle.

Nyra gave me training as I recovered. To use him in her war, or so Sivugat was made to understand, as he was a tool to be used by whoever could take and wield him. Then she lost the nerve, and ran. The boy was grimacing now, fighting the urge to flash his teeth at the memory of the weakness he had seen.

Looking up now, properly, upon Aventus' face - the scowl did not vanish so much as set in place there, as if cut of stone. I know where she went. Is that why you came?

Is this why Nyra ran?

Both of them chose their words with care, weighing each syllable against what it could do to them. For Aventus, Tuur could blow his entire operation here in the mountains. The basalt Ostrega could run off right now and tell Nyra that he had seen one of Ursus spying in the mountains and tip the Saints off to the storm gathering over their heads, endangering not only him, but Arielle as well. He couldn't have that.

Aventus, too, held some cards of his own. If only he had cared to know the other boy better, maybe he could find an ally here, but he still viewed Tuur as something beneath his regard. Merrick, though ... He could tell Merrick where Tuur was hiding, and knew his father would not be happy to learn it and might very well turn his teeth upon his former ward.

He was tense as well, he realized, and willed himself to relax with a few sinuous steps. It wouldn't do to betray that he was afraid, too. He took Tuur's news with a harsh bark of mirthless laughter. Of course she would run. She kills those weaker than her and then runs off like the coward she is. He grit his teeth together so hard his skull rattled. It hurt to admit his mother was weaker than Nyra, but he reminded himself it was only because she was sick. She would have torn Nyra's throat out otherwise. Fuck the Saints. He had to find them!

Tell me where she and Donovan went and I will forget I ever saw you here.

Laughter was not something he expected from Aventus. It was sharp and grating to his ears. Sivugat was glad that it was not laughter meant for himself, or that's what he hoped, and as it dwindled there came more words. These he latched on to. There was a crack at the end, teeth clattering as Aventus shut his mouth.

The bruin-jaw implored Sivugat for answers.

She went north. That was all he really knew anyway. He hadn't followed her and held not intention of doing so. He did not consider this undermining his leader in any way, despite that being the obvious truth of the answer. As soon as Nyra had decided to flee instead of fight, Sivugat had given up on her. His lack of faith was her own doing, he reasoned.

It was not too long ago. She, and her followers, are still somewhere within the range. They might return to gather supplies before they've settled. It was the most he'd ever said to Aventus. A second later, after hesitating to think through the names of the Saints that he knew, he could divulge one more clue: There is no Saint by that name. Donovan. Who is that?

North. It was a start. Aventus was frustrated that Tuur didn't know their concrete whereabouts, but this scrap of information would set Arielle and him on the right track. There she was, bounding across his brain once again. He gave his head a slight shake.

That was all he expected to get out of Tuur, and he would make good on his promise. Aventus never saw him. But there was more. He was halfway turned around by the time Tuur asked about Donovan, causing him to slowly curve his muzzle back toward the other wolf. His brows bunched. Donovan, he repeated with a little more force. Their leader. The vile striped bastard? Surely he is with them. There was no better word for the leader of the Saints. Aventus hunted Nyra, specifically, but Ursus hunted Donovan with just as much fervency.

Sivugat shook his thick skull. Loathe as he was in the past to correct Aventus or Avicus, now he felt a measure of power, for he had known these wolves and as a result he had more information; he had what the boy needed.

Their leader is a white wolf named Nyra. He outlined with a subtle sneer. She only has a few loyal warriors with her, as well as a mother with cubs. Why were the Saints such a threat? There was nothing to them.

He did not realize how deeply changed the pack was since the departure of Kynareth, nor that they were such volatile creatures in the past; only that Nyra was the boss and it pleased him greatly that Aventus did not know this.

Huh. Who could have guessed that the haughty, holier-than-thou Donovan would no longer be running the show as ringleader of the Saints? No matter. Nyra was a bigger target even than Donovan in Aventus' eyes. If she also happened to be the head of the operation, that only meant he could kill two birds with one stone.

The boy didn't notice the pleasure that his ignorance brought to Tuur. In fact, he didn't much notice Tuur at all. The other was still beneath him, an annoying scrap of fur with no merit of its own. That he provided information Aventus might otherwise not have about how small the Saints were brought him up only a smidge in the bear wolf's estimation. Likely, nothing Tuur ever did would earn Aventus' regard, not that he wanted it.

A quick glance was all Aves gave, and a promise: I did not see you here. You have my word. Then with smooth strides he retraced his steps back the way he came, hoping to rendezvous with Arielle before encountering any stray Saints.