Iris

__________________________________________ I jerked, hot and cold rushing over my back as my vision flashed white for a long, agonizing few moments, and I might’ve straightened in a blurred haze to stare around blindly, but honestly, I can’t remember. Only that the sound of gunfire was crashing through my skull on repeat until the world seeped back into focus, swimming and brighter than it should be, but it was better than nothing. At some point, I must have stood, and was staring across at the rifle laying benignly in the dirt several feet away. My hands were dark red and dripping and it took a beat to register that the blood only belonged to the deer. But Dallas- 

Stumbling as my ears rung faintly, I scooped the gun and bag of powder from the ground before pressing my shoulder to the side of the rock in order to steady myself. My hands shook as I fumbled to load the gun. Flip open the pan, pour powder in, and close it before turning the rifle upside down so I could siphon more down its barrel, and slam the ramrod in after it, palms sticky with sweat. He could be dying. He could be dead already. He- 

My lips felt dry with shallow, sporadic breaths and it took valuable seconds to convince my body to move, one step, another, edging out from behind the boulder. I didn’t allow myself to take in the limp pile of scaled coils or the way he was sprawled there, more vulnerable than he had any right being, and only kept them as a dark blur in my periphery, instead focusing on the two thin frames sticking up from the edge of the valley no more than twenty meters off. Fleetingly, my gaze spasmed to Dally’s prone form, catching on the way the orange dirt beneath him was growing dark, and then back to the people in the distance. There was no more hesitation after that, and in a matter of moments, I’d leveled the rifle at the one who was still holding a gun of their own, body having relaxed into familiarity. I pulled back the safety. A breath. And I squeezed the trigger.

My upper body was thrown slightly by the recoil, and yet again, my head rang, but I was expecting it this time and just stood in an inexplicable calm as the shot echoed around me. 

The person on the ridge swayed and crumbled beneath themself. 

Their friend seemed to falter before dropping beside them. I felt numb. My forearms prickled oddly and the backs of my eyes felt hollow. I was walking toward Dally, circling around him with steps I could barely feel. My gaze trailed along the shadow of his tail as I approached, vision pale around the edges. I’d been too late. He was already dead, I was sure. He was gone, I was alone. 

Dust skittered out from beneath my scuffing boots where I’d stopped at the edge of the growing black stain pressing outwards into the hardened, dry earth which readily soaked it up like a long awaited rain. My stomach turned. I took a shallow breath and finally allowed myself to focus on the slack, greyish stillness of Dallas’s face before my lungs seized in something that I wished didn’t resemble a sob quite so closely. And he exhaled.

Heart stalling, air pressed itself out of my own chest and my eyes burned. Oh. A freezing tremor ran through me. Oh-

I went to reach for his face, shifting the weight of the rifle to my left hand as the bedraggled remnants of something very like hope straightened between my ribs- before the brush and crackle of footsteps through dry foliage streamed through the cracks of my narrowed focus which had shut over Dally and previously barricaded everything else out. Even as the chill sunk deeper into me and the thing like hope pulled itself up with bared teeth, I scrambled away from Dally’s breathing body to face the person who I already knew was the gunman’s friend. And they- she- had already closed more than half the distance between where the fallen human and the fallen snake creature lay, gun at her shoulder and trained on my chest. 

Reflexively, I brought my own firearm up to face her, sidestepping away from the sprawled form of the man behind me as my features set into quiet determination. Externally at least.

The gunpowder was behind a boulder which was now a dozen yards away. There was no logical reason that I should have let down my guard and left us both completely open to a threat I’d known was there. What the hell was wrong with me? This woman was going to shoot me for killing what was presumably her husband and mine and Dally’s corpses would be left out here for the buzzards to pick apart and leave nothing for my mother to mourn. 

Subconscious steps carried me forward, in front of the snake man; and planting myself there, I flicked open the safety again, replacing my finger over the trigger of my empty rifle. Although in the moment it took to size her up and glance her over, the roundness of pregnancy in its late stage was hard to overlook, which meant- even if the gun in my hands was loaded, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to shoot to kill. I could’ve aimed for her knee, or perhaps her dominant arm, but. . . I swallowed, reminding myself to breathe. “Stay back- Don’t come any closer.” The words stabbed up through the undertone of crickets, sharp and just hoping that maybe by some chance she’d lose her nerve. 

Thirty feet off now, she faltered, stumbling, but pausing to realign her weapon with my head only moments later. I could see the tremor in her arms, but honestly, I didn’t believe it had much to do with fear; more likely it was the same adrenaline runoff that still gripped me, because. . . Because I killed her husband. She was alone now. With the impending promise of another mouth to feed. She had nothing to lose and everything to avenge and-

She tilted her chin up, taking another step closer and my grip on the trigger tightened a little. “I said don’t come any fucking closer- You can’t have hi-m-” 

Her face spasmed with something vaguely like hysterical mirth and I watched and heard as she snapped her own safety back. She closed one eye and bent her head to gaze down her gun and into my eyes across the wide plane of sagebrush. I stared back, not really seeing her, just waiting; quiet and frozen and knowing there was never a world in which I’d have been able to make it home. I thought I’d come to terms with that fact- it shouldn’t hurt so much. But it. . . just felt so unfair to be torn from it all now, when for the first time in two years I wasn’t entirely alone in the world. We really would die out here together. 

The woman took a breath and shifted, presumably to check her aim before readjusting her grip on the trigger and I felt myself tense, hands numb, knowing the shot was coming.

And it did, the valley echoing with its deafening crack once more, but before that, a giant dark shape had shot out from behind me and slammed into the woman. 

The world pulsated dizzyingly back into focus. I was shaking with cold in the warm afternoon air, stood there, arms having fallen so the rifle hung from icy fingers.

Dallas pulled away from the convulsing, writhing frame of the woman on the ground. He hovered there a moment, sides heaving, and then he fell sideways into the heather.

I wavered, mind reeling and desperately trying to catch up, although I’d dropped the gun and was tripping through the brush before it’d had time to even begin doing so. I found myself standing between the two of them, having no memory of the sprint there, and with only my scraped shins to prove it’d happened at all. She- she was dying. Seizing there in the dirt as venom sprawled itself though her veins. My eyes flickered to her belly and blurred color lapped over my vision for a moment. Her baby would-

“. . .are you. . . n’kay. . ?” I jerked to face the small, bleached voice, staring at Dally for a moment. My body gave out beside him without waiting for the order and my hand found his, although I couldn’t feel his skin through the numbness. The sight of his shirt, dark and glistening with his own blood crowded out all other matters however, and for the moment, the dying mother and her dying baby were swept from my mind. 

Not having it in me to formulate an answer, I bent closer to unbutton his shirt with my free hand and peel it open in order to search for the entry wound through the sticky mess of red.

His hand slid up my arm and he curled closer before he was caught up in a wet, rattling fit of coughs.

Blood bubbled from a spot over his lower left ribs.

Fuck. . . “I-i’s- Dally-”

The grip on my arm tightened just a little. “L. . .ook at. . . . m. . .e”

When my attention snapped to his face, urgency was plain in the eye that gazed back, half panicked. “There’s. . . there’s a. . . trees- ‘f you go n’rthwest. . . c’n see’m from th’. . . edge of th’ va. . .lley-”

“I’m not leaving-” His lung was punctured. I’d pressed my palm flat over the wound, not even for the sake of pressure, but with the hope it might keep the air from escaping. But he probably wouldn’t be conscious long enough to do it himself if I were to leave. . . He was going to die. He was going to die and I didn’t even have the wherewithal to challenge how broken the idea of it made me. 

He wheezed cracklingly, and bent closer to lean his forehead against my knee, eyes closed and so very pale, although the soft string of words that followed came more readily than before, even if they still blurred into each other. “. . .Sawyer. . . th’s a man ‘t c’n help there, tell ‘m i’s me. N’don’t worry ‘bout saving strength for th’run back. . . He’ll help, h’ll. . .” Voice dying, he stopped, breath fast and labored and more shallow than I liked. 

I stared quietly at a bush behind him, pulling my left hand from his grip to gently stroke his hair instead. I could stitch the entry wound shut, but he’d drown in his own blood regardless. There was nothing I could actually do. Which meant even if this man was a figment of Dally’s blood deprived imagination, attempting to find him could only help my chances of keeping him alive.

“What’s his name?” 

Glancing down as he essentially nuzzled into my knee, I idly noted that he seemed to have relaxed slightly, for better or worse, I wasn’t sure. “. . .‘s Les.”

“Les. . . I- okay.” I sat back, limbs buzzing oddly, and took a breath before gently sliding my hand beneath Dally’s face to tip it up toward me. “Hey, you’d better be here when I get back. You owe me that, got it?”

Eye peeling open, his gaze slid up to me, blinking slowly. A faint nod and he pressed into my hand. “. . .y’bett’r come back th’n,”

Painful cold splintered through my gut and I was trying very hard to avoid conceding to myself exactly why the world had blurred and my face was wet. It wasn’t important. I grabbed one of his hands and placed it over the hole in his chest. “Keep pressure on that.” Then, pulling both of my own hands away from him, I shoved abruptly to my feet and took an unsteady step back. “Try and stay awake.” 

Anything more than that would be too much and I just forced myself to turn and start walking, glancing up at the sun in order to course correct. Northwest. Don’t look at the other body in the grass. She was still moving, yes, but she wasn’t savable. And neither was her baby. I was still freezing and while my feet had no feeling I managed to force myself into a run, nearly falling numerous times across the valley until finally I made it to the edge, only slowing for a moment to find the trees and continue on. I knew I was running on adrenaline alone. I knew I would crash as soon as I stopped. So stopping was not an option, no matter how badly my body burned or how hard it was becoming to remember to breathe. 

I’d left him. If he was dead when I got back- if I got back- I’d be left to try and recover alone. Again. It was highly unlikely that the man I was trying to find would want anything to do with me after this. Come to think of it, I had no idea who this guy was or if he was something that could or would eat me. . . After the last couple weeks I’d had, I wasn’t convinced much would shock me, but the question was really whether I’d be safe. And really, I had no way of knowing.

Each time one of my feet hit the ground, shockwaves of forking pain seared through the tingling numbness. 

The sky was so blue.

The land was so wide.

I only had a dozen yards left before I’d reach the trees that split the flat skyline.

My sides spasmed with desperate grasps at air.

And the dappled shadows of the needled canopy hit my back. 

“Les-” What were the chances he would even be here? 

Nearly tripping over a root.

I caught myself and kept running. 

“Les-” How likely was it that he’d actually hear? 

Again and again and again, I was screaming the stupid name that probably belonged to no one, voice scraped through.

My arm barked across the jagged edge of an extended branch.

Blank white filled my vision again and I sprinted on blindly. 

“Les! Please, fucking-” There was no one here and Dally was going to die alone.

Something was crashing through the trees and left me no time to speculate on its source before the huge, red and white splotched body of a horse charged out in front of me and slowed to circle my position, the human body where its head ought to be lowered warily. 

I turned to follow it, bloody hands drawing close to my chest as I stared. His skin was patched a warm brown and white like the rest of his body, horse-ish ears pinned on my position, front hoof pawing at the ground once he’d stopped and straightened slightly. “. . .you- smell like a naga.” His eyes shifted to my hands briefly, only to return to my face, taking a step closer.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it hardly mattered. What the hell he was was of little consequence either. All that I cared about at the moment was determining whether he was actually going to help, because if he wasn’t, I was going to try and get back to the snake man myself before he was gone. “Dallas- is dying-” I leaned over, hands braced against my thighs as I sucked down stinging lungfuls of air. “He’s- someone shot ‘im and he’s- I think they got his lung, a-and-”

The horse- person- thing- stilled, tail flicking. His ears laced down and he backed away. “I’m- gonna get my bag. And ask my wife to gather a party to help carry him. Stay here, alright? I’ll pick you up on my way back.”

Nodding slowly, I hesitated, holding up a near frantic hand. “Do you have a- a- venom antidote or something?” It was a reach, and it was probably too late for her anyway, but. . .

His brow creased in a frown and he shook his long hair from his eyes, seeming to decide against asking for an explanation. “I’ll see what I can find.” And with that, he wheeled and bolted off through the trees.

I stood there, dizzy and so weak, but as much as I’d like to collapse into the dirt, I had to wait. Wait and wonder all the while if there’d even be anything left to save by the time they reached Dally again.

Quiet, I just tried to let my attention pool on my surroundings instead of allowing myself to register how heavy my body felt now that the adrenaline was gone. The trunks of the trees were very orange against the dusty green of their needles. The undergrowth didn’t look much different than that which blanketed the planes outside. The dark shape of a bird flickered at the edge of my periphery. And by the time Les cantered up beside me, I’d lost track of how much time had passed. He was probably already gone. . .

“Here, don’t have time for you to run back yourself.” The man bent one of his front legs, nodding for me to climb on.

Dazed, I sort of just stared for a moment before finally stumbling forward, catching myself against his side, and swinging a trembling leg over his back to try and secure myself in place with no experience of riding bareback.

Les stood gingerly, watching over his shoulder. “Hold onto my mane, try and find your balance, do whatever you need to keep from falling off. I don’t want to risk wasting time,”

Hesitant hands curled in dark red hair and I did my best to ‘find my balance’ whatever that meant. “No, he’s- we don’t have time. If I fall off, leave me. I’ll walk the rest of the way. Please just-” 

He nodded, starting towards the edge of the trees and gradually gaining speed. I pinched his sides with my knees, resigning myself to the bruises that would likely form his shoulder blades rolling sharply beneath me; it was a small price to pay if Dallas came out of this alive. At least that’s what I thought until we reached the tree line and he broke into a full gallop across the prairie. Too panicked to think, I clung to him; arms having come up to wrap around him, head tucked low and just trying to breathe. The way my heels dug into him was likely painful, but all my attention was concentrated into not falling off and there was little room left to consider anything else.

I wished time would stop sliding around quite so much. When Les pulled up short beside the motionless Dallas, it might have been seconds or eons and I wouldn’t have had a clue which was nearer to the truth. I just dragged one leg back over the horse creature's back and slid off, glancing up at him for further instruction and finding him frozen, brow drawn in apparent concentration while his ears twitched intently. After a moment, he began rummaging in his bag, only to produce a large leaf, of all things, which he shoved into my hands. “Put this on the wound and hold it sealed on all sides but one with your hands. I’ll just be a minute.”

“What are you-”

“Just do it- now, alright? Please-” 

I stumbled backwards at the sharpness of his tone, nodding and turning to try and follow the less than clear instructions, kneeling beside Dally and pushing the edge of his coat which had fallen over his chest away. My head buzzed as I pressed the leaf over the wound, listening to his faint wheezing and feeling more than a little hopeless at how much color had left his face since last I saw him. Red stained the edge of his lips. He wouldn’t die alone, but. . .

After a few quiet minutes of sitting this way, I craned my neck back, increasingly frustrated that this man he’d I’d run to get was doing exactly nothing to help. But. . . nothing hardly described what he was occupied with.

He was bent over the woman, having apparently cut through her dress, stays, and shift to expose her middle to the open air and was feeling around the bottom of her stomach now. 

“What the hell are you doing-” If I weren’t currently trying to keep the air in someone’s lungs, I would have gone and shoved him away from her myself. As if it wasn’t bad enough that they both had to die, she didn’t deserve to be stripped of her dignity as well.

Leaning closer over her, his ears flattening back again, he shook his head dismissively. “Worry about Dallas, I’ll be there in a second.” And then he was pressing the edge of his knife into her skin and drawing it deliberately across the base of her belly, before sliding his hands into the incision and feeling around only to cut something else.

I stared, breath having stopped in my chest, pulse in my ears. “Fucking- leave her alone, she’s-”

“She’s breathing- sort of- and the baby has a heartbeat, be quiet-” Hissed words. Careful hands began to pull out, paused to readjust, and withdrew. He set what had to be the- the baby- on his front legs, and fumbled a moment with something out of sight. Scooping the little body up, he shifted to haul himself onto his hooves with a sigh and turned amble back to me. 

And then a very small, sticky body was being placed in my arms and I was forced to let go of the leaf to prevent it from falling. Grunting, it curled its tiny legs and arms close, pressing into me, purple as it was, with its knotted birth cord laying over my arm.

“It’s still not likely it’ll make it. Just keep it warm and don’t get attached.” He nudged me lightly with a faintly bloody hand and knelt beside me, replacing my hold on the leaf with his own. “And move over so I can see what I’m dealing with.”

__________________________________________

<- Part 7

i don’t mind being female actually. I’m okay with being a girl. Do I wish some people in my life weren’t misogynistic? Yes. But I shouldn’t have to be male to be respected.

So when Lamel was killed, he and Dally were surrounded by a party of half a dozen or so new humans. They were both roughly 21-ish at the time; young, stupid, in love, y'know; easily distracted and easily ambushed. (keep in mind, they were smaller then; nagas are ever-growing)

also this is where I got most of my colors ;P

__________________________________________

Nuzzling into the softness pressed against my face, I sighed, curling a bit closer around the small body sprawled limply beside me. The tangible heat it gave off was strange but nowhere near unwelcome and I just sort of spilled over it, letting my brain begin to slip back into sleep. That is until I inhaled some of the fur, breath stuttering into a sneeze I barely had time to muffle with a hand as spatters of chromatic information hit the front of my brain. The fur was hair, the hair belonged to a person, that person was Sawyer, and I had apparently rolled over at some point in the night to quite literally spoon around him. All of this still glittered around the edges with a rainbow sleep haze, but it fell into place well enough. I sniffed, rubbing my nose and regarding his sleeping form a bit apprehensively. I sincerely hoped he hadn’t been awake to know. . . 

The first night, I’d practically pinned him down to make sure he didn’t run, but my intention this past night was to give him at least some space. All afternoon, he’d flinched nearly every time I’d so much as moved a hand around him; I couldn’t imagine he’d be too inclined to cuddle up with me and I’d known that. He was processing the fact that by all human standards, he’d been eaten alive and should be dead now. I didn’t blame him for being jumpy or wanting to keep his distance. 

I slid my arm gingerly out from under him in order to sit up, drawing back and pressing the heel of my hand into my injured shoulder as I dragged my gaze from the human to assess the camp instead. After disentangling my tail from his now curled frame, I bent to peer at the white ash that was all that remained of our fire, poking at it with a stick and kneading it over until I unearthed a few faintly glowing embers. Still painstakingly quiet, I began gathering twigs with which to rebuild the flame in order to warm the remaining quail, mind drifting in the silence. Why couldn’t I just let him go. . . my life had been so much simpler on my own, so why. . . Yes, he reminded me of him, but the thing was, he wasn’t him and I knew that, so why was it so hard to just be logical, eat him for real, and move on?

The next few days offered no answer to this question and I only found myself growing more attached as the fear he had of me began to thin. He changed my bandages. I reapplied denta leaves to his cheek and he actually let me touch him; prop him in my lap and press the poultice into the wound without flinching or pulling back, just sitting there patiently. Even before I’d stored him, although forced to tolerate it, he’d been very wary of my touching him, and it felt good somehow.

Though none of this was remotely helpful in convincing myself to get it over with and kill him. 

It had been just shy of a week since the night I found Sawyer when a herd of two dozen or so pronghorn wandered into the vast dip in the land we’d made camp in the night before. The human was sitting with his back against my bag, shaving away at a small, rather belligerent piece of wood with the knife I’d lent him. Under close supervision of course, and taken away at night. What he was making, I had no clue, and he refused to tell me, but as long as it kept him occupied, I didn’t exactly mind. He was drawn into it enough that he didn’t seem to have even taken notice of the gathering herd of antelope quarter of a mile off, grazing against the scruffy vegetation.

I watched them silently for a few moments, ears quivering slightly, before dropping beside Sawyer, eye glittering with something perilously close to playfulness. 

He glanced suspiciously sideways at me, one brow arching. “What do you want?” The volume to his bored monotone was enough that I peered over my shoulder to check whether he’d been heard, but the antelope seemed relatively unperturbed. Sawyer, however, who had followed my gaze, looked back at me with bared curiosity, his mask of indifference dropping for a brief few moments. “What are they?”

Grinning faintly, I edged a bit closer, voice still low. “Food.” I rested my chin on one hand, letting my head tip sideways slightly. “You wanna come? You could cut whatever you want off before I eat the rest,”

His gaze flickered back to them, then to me again, nose wrinkling with a frown as he whispered back, seeming to have caught on. “I- I don’t know how to dress a deer-”

I shrugged, tail coiling absently. “Well I certainly don’t- we’ll figure it out. Or you can just stay here, up to you,” Whether it was because I was afraid of what might happen if I left him unsupervised again, or because I simply wanted him with me, I didn’t know, and really, it was just as bad either way. But there was no one but myself here to tell me otherwise, so I might as well savor it while I could. 

As uncertain as he still seemed, he set down the oddly shapen lump of wood in his hand and curled his legs up under him the way he often did before standing. “Alright fine, but don’t blame me if I mess up the meat or something.”

My ears flicked up in spite of myself, but I hastily flattened them again, tipping my nose up. “And what’re you gonna do about it if I do?”

He just squinted back at me, deadpan, getting carefully to his feet, slipping the knife into his belt, and turning to study the spindle legged creatures making their slow progression across the steppe.

Straightening now myself, taking this as confirmation he was ready to leave, I turned to start across the field, glancing back just to ensure he was following.

The human’s forehead creased as he cast about for something, his head finally coming back up to frown at me questioningly. “Don’t you need the gun?”

I smiled slightly, unsure of what he meant. “I wasn’t planning on needing it, why?” Was he scared? Or was he planning to grab it off me and try to shoot me with it. . . I wasn’t sure honestly.

“B’cause I highly doubt I’m s’posed to eat something full of venom and I’m not really in the mood to test that out.” He inclined his head in a sort of placatory gesture. 

But he was right; he probably shouldn’t be ingesting meat imbued with rattlesnake venom. I waved a dismissive hand at him, nodding. “Yeah, go ahead, you can bring it.”

I watched him visibly hesitate, gaze darting from me to the rifle leaned against my bag and back. The question he was asking wasn’t hard to guess, but it had been intended.

“C’mon, if you want it, you can carry it. We should go before the get too far.” 

He was still obviously unsure if he was actually meant to, but he scooped up the firearm nonetheless, holding it to his side.

This way, if he tried to shoot me, I’d have no choice but to kill him, if he succeeded in killing me first, then he deserved to live, and if he didn’t even try. . . well, then I was still in the same, uncertain place that I had been for nearly a week now. And if I were honest, I was hoping for the latter, even if I knew I shouldn’t.

I could almost feel the jagged question pressing out from him in desperate spikes, he just adjusting and readjusting his grip on the gun and raised his eyebrows at me, voice surprisingly level when he spoke. “We gonna go before the hear us and run?”

Nodding, I tugged myself from the coil I’d reverted to and started across the curved earth, scenting the air every now and then to ensure he was still there.

If he were any other human- of his species anyway- I wouldn’t have even suggested he tag along; they were all far too loud, sure they owned the land and that it would bow down to them because they told it to. Sawyer, on the other hand, was surprisingly quiet; light footsteps trailed a yard or two to my left, even in the dry foliage against was barely a faint shuffle, nearly drowned out by hiss of my own scales against the earth.

Seven, maybe ten minutes later, I ducked behind the rather large sandstone boulder I’d been aiming for, maybe thirty feet from the unsuspecting herd of pronghorns, Sawyer stooping beside me. I slid my bag gingerly from my back, lowering it slowly to the ground in order to fish out the powder sac and hold it out to the human who, yet again, hesitated, locking eyes with me for a brief moment before scooping it up.

I caught his wrist before he could slide the ramrod out though, mouthing, “Not yet.” in an over enunciated, voiceless breath. 

He nodded, but tipped his chin in the vague direction of the deer, eyebrows raised. 

A faint smile drew over my face and I raised a finger to my lips before turning to peer inches over the rock just to ensure I had a good idea of the land before curving my tail out from behind the rock. Keeping the end carefully still as I slowly let the length of my body sprawl out over the stubbly earth, one hand pressed into the stone until finally, I stilled, only my ears twitching to catch the faint sound of grass blades being severed as the antelope ate. I exhaled, edged forward ever so slightly, muscles tensed to spring, and let the end of my tail vibrate in the reflexive rattle it was made for. There was a brief pause, then the ground beneath us trembled faintly with the pound of bounding, frantic hooves, and I coiled my tail back up behind me.

My hand went out almost subconsciously to shield Sawyer while they thundered closer and I leaned forward, the first few breaking past before I had time to react, veering away from the rock with air spiraling tangibly off their galloping bodies as they ran. I flexed the muscles in my tail, locking on a single loping deer speeding toward us and waiting for the precise, calculated moment before I shot forward, reminding myself midway through in a flash half splintered thought that I couldn’t bite it. Instead slamming into it hands first, careful not to sink my claws into it to avoid causing more pain than was necessary. Grass tore up from its roots beneath us as we skidded and the antelope bleated in some mix of surprise and terror. The herd split off around me in a blur of movement I couldn’t afford to focus on; only the one trapped beneath my hands mattered now, trying in desperation to kick out at me and whaling as though clinging to the hope that one of its kin would come back for it. I eased some of my weight onto its legs to keep it from hurting itself, gently pinning its head so it would stop flailing. “Sawyer- c’mon, the gun, it’s scared-” 

One ear flicked back at the sound of him pounding the ramrod in over and over, his panting mingling with the labored breathing of the creature beneath me. “I’m- working on it.” 

Dark, frightened eyes fixed on mine, soft brown ears laced back, its nose twitching furiously. I could always break its neck, but that was never a perfect process and I’d like to make it as clean as possible. 

But Sawyer’s shadow fell over my side before I broke and gave in to such measures. He paused, seeming to study the top of the thing’s head, gaze seeming to trace deliberate lines, then pressed the muzzle of the gun several inches above its eyes, exhailed, and the valley rang with the crack that followed, spreading out and ricochetting back. 

Sticky warmth clung to the sleeve of my coat and the hand I’d shifted to the now lifeless neck of the deer.

Sawyer’s breaths came shallow, and I raised my head to look at him, his lips slightly parted, gazing down at the creature lying quiet in the heather. The life that was there seconds ago pressed from its frame to leave it silent, prone, so so vulnerable. 

No, it wasn’t new, and no I wouldn’t forsake meat simply because of it, but ending the innocent life of something this beautiful always effected me far more than any of Sawyer’s kind ever would. They had hurt people, there was justification in killing them, they were the reason he was gone and there was no sense in holding back. But this graceful, blameless creature was different. 

“You have the knife?” My voice was low; almost gentle.

He nodded simply, hand snapping to his hip and sliding the blade from his belt, stepping around to kneel adjacent from me. For not knowing how to dress a deer, he hesitated very little before carving into its thigh. 

I sat back to watch him, quiet while he worked and only speaking when he was finished, hands dark with blood. “There’s a drawstring sac in my bag you c’n put that in to keep the flies out until we can cook it. I’ll- I’ll finish while you’re over there since I doubt you wanna um. . .”

His face visibly blanched several shades and he stood hastily, holding the dripping, rough edged piece of flesh out from his body in an effort that I assumed was to avoid staining anymore of his clothes than he already had. Bending to retrieve the the riffle, he skirted past me. “Hollar when you’re done, alright?” 

I nodded and once I’d watched to ensure he had reached the rocks, I took the pronghorn’s hind legs in my mouth and swallowed deeply. 

It only took five or six minutes to work the whole deer down, and I was sat back with the front hooves slipping into my chest cavity, waiting for it to reach my stomach before rejoining Sawyer for his sake at the very least. The hunt had gone well, I was sure the herd had found each other again by now, and I was relatively relaxed.

So the pain that exploded through the right side of my abdomen, seering through my back, deep into me, knocked me sideways. I was vulnerable while eating anyway, but my guard had been entirely lowered. I’d been defenseless, unsuspecting, and now- 

Somehow I’d ended up on the ground, sprawled on my side, mouth open as I struggled for air I couldn’t breathe. The deer felt stuck, lodged where it was and I couldn’t breathe. 

The resounding sound of gunfire only registered in my brain moments later, rippling through my thoughts over and over. 

Until finally, it settled frigidly into place. He’d done it. I’d forgone proper precautions and he’d taken his chance while he could. Sawyer had shot me and if I didn’t die here, I would have to kill him.

__________________________________________

- most venoms are generally nontoxic if ingested and would only cause damage if you had an ulcer or tear somewhere. So both of them are wrong. the only reason Dally doesn't know is because they don't generally share their food with humans, so. though I doubt he'd take that chance anyway; Sawyer Is Not Allowed To Die - pronghorn don't actually qualify as antelope both because they shed and regrow their horns and because true antelope only exist in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. They aren't quite deer either. They are, in fact, most closely related to giraffes and okapi.

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