It had taken Ronan longer than he would have liked to fully recover from the sabred tiger attack, but he more or less felt as though he was back in fighting form. Admittedly, most of it had been a tangle of mental shit he just wasn't capable of dealing with - that no one couldn't without the help of a very well paid therapist. Alas, he was just a pointy dog. Still, by now he'd gotten used to the sheer nature of this place, all browns and greens and just full of life, when all he'd really come to expect was death and so fucking much of it. Except instead of finding comfort he half expected to feel the earth shake beneath his paws, to realise that the moment he let his guard slip it was too late.
He grumbled to himself, moving to the side of a tree to idly itch against it. Summer was fine, but it was hard to not be bitten by all the gnats in the air.