#oldwests

      “FRIEND, YOU TAKE ONE STEP CLOSER and i promise you it’ll be your last.”   it’s hard to hear anything over the roar of flames and the groans of the recently-undeceased shambling closer below, but he knows the wind is in his favour and his voice will carry as far as he needs it to from the rooftop.   if not, the way he levels his rifle at the stranger in the mask telegraphs a good deal more than his words ever could: he’s got that sweet spot, sights dead center on the mass of his skull, habit now out of necessity more than skill.

      IT’S A GENUINELY BEAUTIFUL PLACE, this cabin he’s found, all lit in silvers and blues, near bright as day the way the moonlight reflects off the snow between the trees.   she’d be much more inclined to appreciate it if there was any feeling left in her fingers after the long ride up, but even the big old fur gloves she’d “freed” from an empty shack back at the start of the snowline did little to cut the chill.   she’s glad to see there’s at least one lantern lit through the windows, but knowing him it could mean anything at all.