Redsand Canyon the day pressed on like crushing weights

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.