The Odd Things that Wont Leave

Poppa was a strong easygoing man, with eyes as gentle as the swirling wind after a storm. Loving and kind. But sometimes they grew blue, deep like the depths of a lake with so many thoughts….That Sarah almost felt like it would swallow her when she sat in his lap and tried her best to soothe him. Her granny seemed to never fear such a thing, holding Poppa’s face like it was glass in her own scarred hands. Caressing his cheeks, kissing his shoulder and being enveloped in his broad arms. Her own lean birdlike frame anchoring his to the living world with every touch and whispered breath.

But sometimes Granny would be asleep, Sarah awakening with a sleepy stir to the creak of boots which said more of her grandfather’s mood than any expression. The older man was as quiet as the flutter of a moth’s wings, hearing him meant the wind was off. Sarah would peer from her loft, clutching Kaleb’s old shirt she wore instead of a nightgown. Her cousin fast asleep and sprawled in a way Gran described as “Utterly his age for a fifteen year old.” She had blinked blearily, rubbing a fist into her eyes as the broad back of her grandfather slipped out into the moonlight.

So of course, she followed him. Not as quiet, and it took her so many long seconds to go down the ladder. Slip up to the door. Then the nerve to turn the cast handle, knowing her grandparents never wanted her out in the moon’s eye. When it was so late, so bright. Dangerous things sometimes lurked, being alone out there was begging for bites. She stuttered in her fear at the thought. 

Pop was alone out there. Loud and alone.

So with that she slipped into the night, breathing shallow and hands shaking like a leaf. 

  Pop stood broad shouldered in the mouth of the bunkhouse when Sarah found him, his hair curling and twisting in the soft breaths of the late night. Bugs whistled, grass shifted under that same breeze between Freyda’s teeth. Sarah peeked from along the edge of the large barn, her bright curls almost glowing in the moonlight. Big wide eyes concerned as she watched her Poppa’s wide barrel chest rise and fall. But his lips were downturned, his face shiny. Seeing her Pop cry sent a shot through her stomach like a jab of ice. Her own eyes burned with sympathy as his breath stuttered. A rough hand creeping up to rub at his beard, not touching the tear tracks.

In his other hand he clutched a Splitter, an example of a long barreled work of art that Sarah had grown up touching and handling. This one was beautiful, with engravings and gentle chips. Oiled and pretty with its red wood. The only thing that looked out of place, was the burned and snapped strap that adorned it. The rest of the gun was perfect, it made her eyes furrow. The soft sniffle of her grandfather snatched her attention from the Splitter in a moment, eyes growing hotter with pain at hearing such a sound. That pain only grew worse as the titan of a man, slid down along the edges of the bunkhouse’s jaw. Settling into the dirt and dust, still clutching the rifle. Sarah, unable to stop herself, crept out into the moonlight and paused, she wasn't supposed to be out here.

Her grandfather let out a long breath, it whistled as it slipped past his scarred lips and into the air. He let it hang, letting it dance in the mist and caress the stars for a long moment. His thumb that had been gently running along the splitter’s barrel stopping, before his mouth opened and his deep drawl curled through the grass past the bug song. “Sarah, sweet thing, come out.” Hearing her name made the young girl jump, eyes widening as guilt writhed in her stomach. “I’m sorry!” She crept farther out, voice shaking at the sight of the trails on his face. She didn’t like it, those rivers which need not exist. Not on the face of her Poppa. The old man only breathed in deep and seemed to sit there in thought. Sarah felt her body tense, the need to stay jolting through her at the thought of Pop angrily shooing her away. His face crumbling and hand flicking, no cruel words spoken but banishment all the same.

So the two sat in the moonlight, the old man chewing on the sight of the land and the little girl trembling with a need to love and fix whatever troubled him. After an agonizingly long wait, he opened an arm, and Sarah took the invitation with a sharp intake of breath. Within a moment she was in his side, burrowing into his chest. Major grunted but took her weight with ease, wrapping an arm around her and rubbing his thumb into her shoulder. 

Easy gentle circles. 

He said not a word for a long time, the little girl settling against him and breathing in the scent of the man she knew could hold up the world. Said man let out a sigh, holding the child close as his eyes sat watering. Pools of thoughts starting to push against the lids of his eyes and drip down into his whiskers. Sarah cuddled close, allowing her eyes to travel up and land on her grandfather’s face. Scarred and worn, tan and freckled. “Poppa?” It was a squeak of a shaky kind, a gentle tap on a heavy wooden door with iron hinges older than her bones. The man didn’t look at her, his gaze still on the lay of his yard, flicking from the tops of the barns to the long fence that held the mounts, the long building where hides sat to dry. Bones laid clean. Then they fell back to the rifle in his lap. He bit his lip and winced, breath drawing in like a body over broken glass. Catching and painful. In his side his granddaughter’s own breath hitched. Her small hand peeked out as she stood. Much smaller than the man, she barely made it up to his forehead, but her tiny hand caught his face all the same. 

In a mirror of her grandmother, she tried to comfort the old man. “Don’t cry, Poppa please don’t.” Her voice cracked from the pressure of seeing him in such straits, keening and young. Major’s large four fingered hand gently caught the one that held his face, his lips twitching with a smile that ached. When he said nothing, and more tears fell, Sarah whined. Her own sympathetic tears escaping in response. This made the older fellow let out an amused, though still thick with sadness, huff. “Now honey, none of that.” She only shook her head, the heavy arm on her back making the pain less sharp, but still throb with sympathy. “But you’re sad.” She whimpered it, eyes catching the moonlight and lip trembling. “Poppa please don’t be sad. C-Can I help?” Chirping it past her tears, making Major let loose a smile that finally reached his eyes. Melancholy, sweet sadness that coated the blisters of his heart. “You sound like him, by Freyda you do..”

Sarah blinked and sniffed at that, confused. Major only smiled again, setting the rifle down so it rested on his boots. Done with a level of care one would have with a child, before he guided the girl into his lap. Sarah, trying her best to understand, settled and sighed as she was held. “Who? Is he the one making you sad? If- If he is, he needs to go away.” Her brow knitted, a childish ache of anger fluttering in her chest. Pulling her head from his shirt she bared her teeth, “I can make him go away.” At that Major let loose a laugh, one that was brittle and shaking. Hollow as a rusted kettle, grounds rotten so long ago that they were more earth than trash. Unsettled, the girl jumped to defend herself. “But Poppa I can- I will!” Taking the child’s exclamation like the brush of a temperamental calf, Major only hugged her close.

“You don’t need to, Sarah. Darling I promise. He-..” Pausing, the old man sniffed hard. His tears now running again. Small and now a mix of concerned confused the little girl only whispered, “I don’t understand.” A sweet ringing laugh slipped from the old man as he buried his face in the child’s hair. Hugging her like she was the most precious thing he had, as the laugh fell into a sob. “Goddess you do sound like him, by the land Ransom would have loved you..” He whispered it into her hair. Bright blonde curls his children seemed to have been keen on keeping. Wire had them, Ransom had them when he was a child. Merrit had more red in his. Thomas had his daddy’s deep dark hair. It made Major let out a long breath. As Sarah hummed. “Ransom..” She tested the name, it slipped along her tongue in a pleasant way. Sarah had heard the name a hundred times, said like a prayer. Always mixed in with talk of storms and lost hats. Angry mounts and spooked breaths. 

 Major chuckled and sniffed, running a free hand along the Splitter at his feet. Two knuckles in a sweet tender way, as Sarah snuggled close. “Yeah honey, he would do this. Get all curled up with me like a kitten. Get right under m-my chin..” His voice cracked, eyes watering. “He would get so spooked, the-” He breathed a choked shaky breath, “Storms, thunder. All of it would make him cry. A-Always said he was there to keep me safe,” Another broken hitch. Sarah snuggled closer, eyes locked on the man in an odd shock. “K-keep me safe. Like he wasn’t half a calf-” Major stuttered and couldn’t seem to finish the sentence. Visions of cotton headed children, a pack of boys with Ransom at the head. Merrit, small and toddling, tightly holding his older brother’s hand. Major winced, heart crying out at remembering his youngest son. Hands itching to hold the two of them again. To take back every screamed word at Merrit when he brought a baby home, no warning no mother. Just shame and stubbornness. Major regretted slapping him when Merrit hissed that the woman didn’t matter, some saloon girl he met one time. 

That she had dumped Kaleb in his arms and wanted nothing to do with him. And he was fine with that.

He remembered Ransom holding that kid, and sighing. Eyes as steely as ever. Coming to Major in that very barn he now sat in the mouth of, twenty five and newly married. Sensible and calm, saying that Major wasn’t wrong to be angry. But what's done is done. The bastard kid was still one of them. Ransom had eased it along, Wire and Thomas following his lead as they always did. The memories used to sting, but now they soothed the old man’s heart as he thought of the two being so bound... 

 The breath eased in, as he held the child in his arms so tight Sarah almost winced. Then it loosened, and he finally looked at her. Eyes wet and mouth caught in a mix between a frown of pure ache and sweet tender pride.

“...He grew up quick..That boy...He kept his feet on the ground..” He paused, thoughts rolling behind his curls. “By Freyda he was so excited for you.” Voice a tender whisper, almost reverent as it edged along the cusp of ragged. “Never seen a fool get so drunk off pride and whiskey… When he found out Dolly was pregnant..” He shifted his hand off the rifle and gently ran two knuckles along the little girl’s stained cheeks. Eyes not quite drifting with memories he smiled once more, as Sarah hummed. “He was excited?” It was a sweet whisper of a curious child. Making Major grin. He shifted so his back was more at ease against the long greyed dust thickened wood. Old joints aching as the girl moved, holding onto his shirt and blinking with questions a child couldn’t truly know would hurt if asked. “Daddy was excited for me?” Major fought back a new wave of tears, nodding still holding the girl’s face. 

“Honey, he danced, he was so excited. Always too stiff to even try to hold a rhythm..Your Daddy… But the thought of you, holding you, had him on the roof.” Sarah giggled softly, eyes alight with an everchanging vision of what her father would have looked like, dancing on the roof like a drunkard. At even the thought of her? She tried to piece together what her Gran had told her, about the lean man with a heavy jaw and chipped teeth. A man who liked the color blue. Her mother danced on the edge of the vision, an ashy blonde creature with a milky eye. A smile with lips as red as roses. “And momma?” Curious, achingly so. Major chuckled at the tone, blinking away the grief. “She cried buckets, she was so excited, so worried. Always worried you would be too small... Your Daddy kept her sane, they both cried when you were born, when you did…” Sarah hummed at that, silently mulling over the thought. Wondering if her mother sang, if her daddy could hold a hum. 

“They would have been so proud of you honey, of what a woman you're gonna be.”

Hoss was struggling to stay on the saddle, the wind tearing at him like knives as the young man clung to his mount like it was the only chain to the world he had. He gagged on a sob, heaving with panic barely choked down as he gasped from the sheets upon sheets of downpour. It tore against him, ripping up his shirt and raking its cold fingers down through his hair. Another sob.

Below him, rumbling and closer to frightened than Hoss should let her be, the Iguanodon named TipTop shook herself against the frigid bullets that rained down. Her deep pretty ruby hide almost black under the unforgiving sky. Hoss sobbed again, panic writhing as he fought the need to snuggle into the female lizard’s thick heavy neck. She was a gentle loving lizard, a cracked beak that spoke of a retirement over the next hill from being a hunting mount. But she was still steady, so Hoss could not urge her to move faster. She knew what she was doing, where to settle her feet, how to stay on the tail of the more aggressive creature that rode in front of her. Hoss was thankful she knew, because he had not rode in years, not like this.

He needed TipTop to stay focused, stay on the trail. He couldn’t distract her. Not when a fall could down her, make her twist something vital and ruin all the supplies strapped to her heavily muscled hips. Maybe even crush Hoss himself. The boy, barely a man, shivered as the cold pellets battered his stocky almost clumsy frame from atop the beast. Fear of being trampled and falling off into the muck, left behind again, it made his already worn hands tighten on the reins. It almost made Hoss sob again, but he didn’t let it past his teeth. Not now. He finally had this chance to try again, he remembered that night like a cold iron on his spine as the wind howled around him. That boot slamming his teeth together and being left in that dried creek bed. He had been left for dead then, he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Baring his teeth in a resolve as cold as the rain he forced his eyes to open again, narrow on the second half of his party that walked at an unhurried pace but still felt leagues away. That shadow, that long tailed bulk was his only guiding grace. His second chance he had worked so hard to even get the grit to look at. A tall creature with a beast in the shape of a woman in that thundering rain, her shoulders and back melted into her mount’s spine like some sort of amalgamation not meant to live in the sun. Hoss felt his stomach roll, at the pure fear that jumped in his throat at the sight. How far they were, how dreadfully hard it was to see them.

Animalistic and trembling he wanted to cry out, beg for her to slow down. Wait for him, come closer so he wouldn’t be left out in the wilds again. Become bones, pale and scraped clean. Left to die. His jaw ached. Shaking like a leaf, choking back sobs like a child and closing his eyes again, his nerve snapping. With deep breaths he  tried to ease the panic back because he couldn’t lose to this. He just couldn’t. Hoss could not tap his heels into TipTop’s barrel belly and plead with her to move faster. Get close enough that the boy could run his trembling fingers along the mount in front of his own. Feel the rough scales, know that he's not alone. That he’s kept up. But if Tip got spooked he could die, he could slip off this lizard because of his tether being wet and brittle, get crushed into the mud like a piece of a useless carcass. Like the cracked edge of a horn, the scarred shattered leg that wasn't worth carrying after a kill. Like a flier with a broke wing. Like a son.

Hoss felt like he would drown, scrunching up he clenched his body as he was wracked with sobs so raw but could not travel. Not past the thunderous music of Freyda, over her screaming hums. She had no ear for his weakness, his disgusting lack of spine. Hoss needed to be strong, he needed to pull himself together. So in the belly of the storm, in a continuous upward swing of a wheel, he would fall and be plunged into panic. Every bit of steel he could pull from his ribs as he plucked up his courage would rust in the salt of his tears when he looked out into the darkness and panicked. Plunged right back into the cold depths of his brain. Saw the faintest of shadow, but saw no party within it. His frightened waterlogged mind screaming that the shadow may not be his party at all, could be a stray and he was out in the middle of the storm. Left behind. Breathing in bursts, panic writhing as he fought back the need to purge his stomach just from the nerves alone caused by the sleep deprived thoughts. Then the lightning would flash, a slam of a blacksmith’s hammer, and he would get a small reprieve. See a glimpse once more, more than a smudge in the drench. 

That's all that kept him from crying out, begging for help. It would force him to grit his teeth and chant that he only had one chance, that he needed to weather this and he would be ok. Cling to TipTop and keep his old rusty gun and powder vest dry. Hoss forced himself to remember that riding in front of him, Miss Yoti sat atop her mount. She had stared at the storm as it had rolled along the flat lands and towards the mouth of the river where they rested. Like the gallop of wild herds, a mist of stinging rain almost beautiful from the miles Hoss had seen it from. She had clenched her square jaw and stood, shoulders back and grey eyes as unforgiving as the torrential flood awaiting them. He, softened from his years under a roof in the courthouse and the Bone Yard, had asked if they should wait it out. Make camp. By Freyda the woman had torn  to bare her teeth at him like a snarling wild dog, “Boy it's rain, if you can’t ride in the storm lay down here in the mud then and let the river eat you instead.” The sharp click of her wrenching on her oil coat, an expression so sharp it cut Hoss to ribbons as she sneered at him. “If you’re scared of melting, throw yourself in the rapids now. Do it and do it quick so I won’t have you on my clothes. I have places to be.” 

So they rode through it, Hoss knew that there would be a safe place to stop just five miles from where they had stopped for a moment to rest. Yoti was not one to flinch back from the elements, and never one to lay down when a couple more steps meant safety. She had firmly hissed about river dwellers that would walk along the shore and past it to drag you in. About sudden drifts of water that could snatch you off your mount. It was worth it to move. Not to back track. It’s something that awed him in most moments. Her clinging to a stone face glaring down at a canyon. The rain biting her face and her still being able to smile and roll her shoulders. But right now, in the gloom and body wide ache, Hoss fought hating it.

With trembling hands and shaky legs he hated every moment of feeling alone in the storm Yoti led him through. Almost regretting following the hunter out into the wilds in the first place, on an old mount he spent his savings on. With an old gun that he had stayed up all night cleaning, oiling it until it felt like his hands would be stained forever. Having to bite back tears when she turned her back on him the first time he begged to be a part of her party. How he didn’t ask the second time, because he wasn’t ready to lose to her.

He set his jaw again and shifted to better block his head from the wind, tears blurring his eyes as he stared hard at the patch of black on blue. That blur of black that didn’t flinch when the rain hit, how she had turned and roared above the beginnings of the flood with a voice like wild thing. Telling him to keep on her tail, trust his bird. She would keep them on track, it was a lifeline Hoss clung to as he forced himself not to flounder. Yoti was leading the way, she would be there when they reached the waystation. Do what she always did, walk him through where to slip their birds out of the weather. Usher him in and find them a dry corner. 

Her graying hair would dry, her voice would soften up ever so slowly as the rain dripped off. She would sit steady and maybe start to tell him about things, more about where they were going. The thoughts were comforting, making his shaking hurt less. Making it so he smiled when he saw that low half drowned light of the waystation. They inched closer at an agonizing pace punctuated by sudden growls of thunder, Hoss rubbed his thumb along the rough pebble-like scales of TipTop’s neck. The female grumbled, he couldn’t hear her above the storm but he felt her hum. It rumbled through his spine and settled in his shoulders like a heavy tarp. Hoss breathed deep, tension and impatience squirming in his gut as the light barely grew closer. The wild fears dampened with every step, but not fast enough. He needed out of this storm, but his trail head only continued at her easy pace. Teeth grinding he released the reins for a moment, rubbing his frozen fingers and trying to get the blood back in the tips. The leather cord was stretched and twisted from his grip, a few hours of fiddling and itchy fingers scarring the wet leather worse than it had been before. Made him sigh, but he only blinked heavily and breathed another deep breath. Quenching his nervous stomach with the damp air and the smell of the beast beneath him. The cow smelt warm, even as her thinner skin jumped with a shiver. It was a comforting smell. One that made his final dregs of panic subside.

It was a victory of sorts, made his head hurt, but still a relief. Exhausted and beyond tired he shivered again, sending an ache through his bones. His Splitter tucked under his coat dug painfully into his ribs as he tried to twist and release the rest of the tension in his muscles and spine. Hunched from the storm for hours, whole body like a twisted thread about to snap, Hoss snatched his hands away from the reins again. He had started messing with them again. Atop his mount he released another shaky breath, “TipTop, old girl I’m cold..” It felt good to talk, even if his voice was raw from crying and hoarse from yelling when things had gotten too much for him. When the rain had hit too hard, and it was too hard to see. Made his skin crawl with shame at the reminder, hands back on the leather cords. Below him, TipTop shook her head again, as if agreeing and rather exhausted. Hoss could almost hear the bird’s voice in his head as he rubbed her bony head.

Older, heavy and deep, ‘It is mighty cold, horrible, this type of weather on the bones and ridges. Makes you ache Hoss.’  It served to help his mind grow a bit more level, as he patted the beast. “I’m sure your joints ache, I’m sorry..” whispering it close to the animal’s neck he couldn’t help the way his heart squeezed. Poor Tip was old, and he dragged her out here. She needed a warm dry stable, some good dry food and some warm water. “I’ll get you some, Honey I promise. You deserve it for being so good to me..” Another hushed whisper as he placated the beast, who let loose a hum, responding to his noises like he was a child puttering along without a thought. Gentle and sweet as always. Her whole body was looser now, eased by his own slowly dulling anxieties. The sight of light grew ever so creepingly closer, and Hoss felt his soul settle with every step.

Eventually, though it felt all of a sudden, the dull blob of his party grew a bit less smudged. The waystation was drenched and muddy, and very much within six feet of him. A large eve settled along the outer edge of it that would have to do for the lizards, some large mounts already settled into their own pile. Probably for comfort and a bit of warmth, the hissing Dilo’s flashed their eyes at them from the dry spot. Their crests flushing. Yoti’s eyes flashed with gold in the low oil lamp light from one of the front windows, she was dismounting. Hoss scrambled to do the same. His eyes firmly on the smaller frame of his party leader as she waved him in. Her own lizard, stood on its hind legs and shook itself, its odd blunt crest flashing an odd shadow as it let out a rumbling wild groan. It echoed inside of Hoss’s bones, and Tiptop’s beak opened to release an instinctive response. A long deep rumble that swept up into a trumpet. Hoss flinched at the noise, sighing as his knees almost buckled under him. His whole body ached with soreness, but his eyes gleamed as he flicked them back towards the dilos settled in their pile. Meat eaters, carnivorous. The smelt fear and never took it well, Miss Yoti didn’t pay them a lick of attention for a moment. Ushering her mount into the other half of the eve, and gesturing for Hoss to follow. Her long brimmed hat dripping with water, and eyes smudged with eyeblack. It made her look almost as wild as the Dilos.

“C’mon Hoss! Don’t disrespect the old girl by making her wait!”  Her voice was raspy from lack of use, but boomed across the rain all the same. Hoss jumped and quickly began to click in the back of his throat, edging his mount into the dry and trying not to fall down in the process. “Miss Yoti! I- Are the Dilos…?” He knew some were as well behaved as Tip, but others..He eyed them as TipTop tiredly trudged into the dry stable and shook herself again, not paying the predators any mind. Yoti gave Hoss a look he couldn’t even begin to try and understand, a snout starting to sneak up and out of her coat as her flier began to want to stretch. Smelling the dry. “I know the female, ain’t that right Hallie darling?” The larger of the Dilos perked up and warbled. Body finally softening, and the second while still tense, relaxed slowly, lowering his head. Hoss sighed and patted TipTop as she laid down, Yoti’s mount shaking his head and releasing another low sound. Punctuated with rattles, which made Hallie let out a friendly warble in response. 

Hoss sighed, rubbing his face as tiredness clawed at his throat. “Of course you do, but Tip?” Yoti nodded and gave him a slow easy uptick of her lips. “She will be fine, Loris knows Hallie too. Don’t worry, come inside. You need to, you looked half drowned.” Hoss could only half laugh, squelching with every step as he checked his lady iguanodon  one more time before following the lean woman to the door, “I feel it Miss Yoti, I just want a long sleep..” She chuckled at that, her mood warming by the second. It had dipped by the river, but now it was like a weight had been lifted, she had a softness that Hoss had missed. Made his shoulders droop. The door pulled open before Yoti could knock, making Hoss jump with renewed nerves. 

The man had wild hair and wide blue eyes rimmed with dark circles, one of his sleeves firmly fastened to his coat and the other up like he was tearing out the door. Scarred hand firmly on his dry hat, having torn across the doorframe and almost hit them. Hoss let out a nervous hum, and Yoti smiled warmly.

The man blinked and let loose a breath like it had been fighting to get out, “Sarah.”

-

The grass was cooler than it should have been, the cold air curling along it in the spring mornings like a breath of frost half formed. Sarah skimmed along the edges of it which stood in thick swathes, her hand me down coat glistening with dew and braid fighting to stay uniform as the twigs and branches clawed at her. The young teen’s lips twitched with satisfaction at the feeling of the early morning and all its meanderings.

A light nip of cold, a low rustle. Her breathing twisting across the air like the twitching of a low land reptile’s spines. Low and moving with a still stiff stance, she continued along the edge of the field. Tall towering dark trees peered at her in the blue gloom of the final strains of night, the ever so soft puff of sunlight coloring its edges like a porcelain cup. The cleanest blue man could see, was the sunrise and its edging creep. Her favorite color. 

Sarah,  was trying her best to stay low and quiet. Having to pause and readjust her feet with every few steps, trying her best to move like her Poppa when he walked deep into the woods with his Carry rifle. 

Slow.

Another step, her biting her lip and glancing down at her boots.

Quiet.

The twigs under her heel creaked and she could not hold back a wince, pausing and listening to the ever quiet air. Before going on again, going a dozen more paces, easing along and growing more confident.

Easy as a breeze.

Sarah smiled to herself giddily at the ever quicker pace she started to gain, warming up to the almost alien way of walking with every step. But she was still young, the slow almost tortoise like pace grew unbearable after no more than ten minutes. She needed to move a touch faster. Then a bit more. Steps grew wider, the aims of her heels grew less calculated and skipped with a more erratic beat. 

With a wide grin she grew more lazy with her steps and path, aiming for rocks that would speed up her trek. Now doing a far too fast of a clip for stalking, she about bounced from every peeping stone that showed itself among the grass. Avoiding the thicket or sticks which could cause noise by dancing above them. Giggles threatened to bounce from her throat as she went. Amusement like a fuzzy mess of dandelions tickled her chest, grey eyes bounding ahead to find more stones to dance across. Soon enough she began to curve along the edge of the field where rocks grew less curious, staying tucked into the dirt as unwilling stepping stones. 

Too caught in her almost flying clip, she took a longer jump, then another. Confidence making her bold, choices in footfalls wicked. Leading to her holding out her arms to catch herself when she stepped too fast, her chosen stone one glistening with the teary morning and its dew. She gasped as her balance still evaded her with a flail of her arms, twisting in a wide arc to avoid the ground. Spinning erratically in a fight with the pull of the earth, which went on for an absurdly long moment before Freyda seemingly decided the girl needed to pay for her misstep. The fall was almost deafeningly loud in comparison to the hum of a sweet morning, the crackle and groan of vines in the heaps along the edge of the field. 

Thorns scratched her face, pricked her hands, snatched at her hair. Hat gone, eyes wide she laid prone in the angry arms of the vines. For a long moment she laid there, unwilling to move from the nest her fall had made. Not due to comfort, the thorns still dug, but the heavy despair of having to dig herself out and have the bush cling to her. A huff escaped her lips after having plenty enough time to come to terms with her entrapment, arms caught above her and her torso deep into the brambles. Her eyes flicked around, biting her lip in thought. She shakily tried to pull herself up, whimpering as she was poked by her cage. The blonde girl, no older than thirteen, clenched her jaw and stared up at the ever slowly lightening sky. For what felt like a long moment she laid there, unwilling to move. Eventually she relaxed, just sighing and waiting for whatever may come. Someone would wander out this way, surely. Sarah clenched her jaw at that, cheeks flushing. Allowing the soft meanderings of her imagination to pull and tug on faces, green eyes scuffed up men. Dark hair and loud laughter, her heart stuttered thinking of the hats that tipped in her direction. The upticking smiles. She imagined one of them helping her out of the bush, how they may linger…  She heard the slow scrape of footfalls. It made her muscles seize, anxiety banishing the daydream out of her mind and now biting at her spine as she froze.

 Cheeks burned with embarrassment and fear, and then it spread to her ears as her body was swathed in a deeper shadow. Hiding in the collar of her jacket she blushed a deep red, as a man’s face peered down at her from between her mud covered boots.

“Well looky here! Aw Yoti, that's such a sad sight.” The words were said with a warbling smugness. Sarah bit her lip and felt her eyes burn, “Kale, help me out!” She wiggled her limbs for emphasis, whining as some of the thorns went past her shirt sleeves and nipped her. Her cousin only smirked, eyes glazing over with a meanness. She bared her teeth in response, “No! Nonono! Kale-!” A heavy large hand caught her by the front of her coat and wrenched her upward, Sarah yelped and gasped at the sudden jerk. Clawing at Kaleb’s damp hunting coat as he dragged her up like a carcass. “KALE-!” 

His laughter echoed as he pulled her out of the bush, the thorns having snuck up past her hair and scrubbed her neck raw. The vines clung to her, the sudden change in position made her head swim. Sarah whined and wrenched a foot forward, letting loose a hiss and kicking her cousin in the knee when she was about upright. The older boy wheezed with pain, interrupting his cackling and almost dropping her. The girl clinging to his coat and snarling as the combined weight almost dragged them both into the bush. “Shit Yoti! Fuck- You slimy rat I was helping you!” Kaleb’s eyes flared with a mood and Sarah only hung on tight to his own copper toned coat. She bared her teeth and blinked at the dizziness. “You didn’t have to yank me! That HURT!” Kaleb blinked at that, before rolling his eyes as they stood locked in an odd balancing act that had them neither on solid ground nor in the brambled. Sarah adjusted her grip as Kaleb huffed, “Sure, you probably deserved it anyway. I mean you were supposed to be at the house, not out here flirting with some yokel probably hiding out here.” Yoti choked on her breath at the accusation, blushing a deep red. Kaleb smirked, his anger forgotten at finding a soft spot as Yoti stuttered over the very idea. “So that is why you’re out here! Never would have thought that would happen!” He grinned his mean grin, which softened ever so slightly in his eyes. Sarah was not amused, she was closer to frantic. Flashes of the handsome saurboys that had passed through the past couple days, the ones that smiled at her. The very idea made her flounder with useless feelings and a red face. Kaleb knew she was flustered and had taken a shine to a few, he had laughed and ruffled her hair when she had finally admitted it.

“I- No! I wasn’t meeting no boys! I was practicing! Yknow, the walk- Yeah yeah Yoti, sureeeee. You probably got some horsefaced boy peeping around the trees dontcha?”

Sarah bared her teeth as her cheeks only grew warmer, because Kaleb wasn’t being kind. He was in one of those moods, and she wasn’t in her own which could handle it. “I wasn’t! I swear! Don’t go saying that!” Her cousin smiled again before he shrugged, easing backward and making sure she landed outside the nest of thorns. “Ok ok, I’ll believe you. Not like you could get some boy dragged out here anyway.” He chirped it, rolling his shoulders. Sarah dusted herself off and glared at him. The sting flittering across her heart at the one off statement, like Kaleb saying she couldn’t hold a gun for shit when they were shooting. It was flippant, it was playful. She didn’t say a word. Face growing redder. 

Kaleb hummed and shouldered his rifle, shoulders now broadened with age, and a thick layer of scruff on his face. He flicked another look over his cousin whose face was still that awful red. Something like awkwardness flickered in his eyes before he tramped back over, ruffling her hair and smiling his apologetic smile. “Aw Yoti don’t get all sulky, I know you didn’t have no boys out here….” She glanced up at him, as he took her shoulder and rubbed a thumb gently into it. “Half the riders think you're a boy anyway.. I won’t tease you anymore.” The last tack was tapped in like he was trying to soothe, a gentle hum as if it would flatten out the utter mortification in her face from earlier. It was once again said jokingly, sweetly. Trying to move past the feelings as soon as he could. Yoti forced a smile, shrugging as her cousin smiled back at her. Her guts twisted, but she ignored it. “Shut up. You’re such a jerk.”

Her lips still dipped with hurt, making Kaleb frown. “Ok I’m sorry, for all of that. I just…” He struggled for a moment, working his jaw as he did. Sarah felt the hurt get washed, the balm a cocktail of love and empathy. She didn’t want him upset. “I’m ok, I do look like a boy sometimes…Is everything ok?” She laced a smaller, rather scarred up and boyish hand into his own gruff calloused one. He squeezed it and shrugged, the two starting to walk. “Yeah its…It could be worse. Always can be.” He tucked the girl into his side, chewing at his bottom lip as he went. Sarah shook her head disapprovingly, letting her other hand ball up in the back of his coat. “That’s bad luck Kaleb, can’t say that.” She teased with a smile, making Kaleb stutter his walk so he tugged her at odd angles as they went down the trail. Earlier tension was forgotten as Sarah laughed and Kaleb hummed, stuttering his step so it almost tripped them both. “Right right,” He released a deep sigh. “ I just got in trouble with Pop again, he and Granny are always so testy…Constantly worried. They don’t wanna listen to me… Do anything different.”

Sarah hummed softly, her grip tightening as she stared up at the dark eyed man above her. She knew Kaleb had been arguing with Pop, things tense and shaky. Pop glaring like a growling raptor, eyes flashing with a loyal pride. Kaleb had backed off, eyes blazing like a branding iron. An odd flickering look in his pupils. “Working the seasons with Doc is like trudging through mud every year, the old man keeps us in contract but he wont send us after anything that will actually pay for new parts for the splitters… Just enough for coffee and cornmeal..” Kaleb spoke like a grindwheel, long and agonizingly crushing every last word like it was grit in his teeth. Sarah blinked at the statement, “Poppa said this season is just slow because the herds are calving, recovering, ughm…The- Yeah, the fucking drought, then the cold flood.” Sarah caught the razor edge on Kaleb’s spatted words, like the natural events  spoiled his meat and rotted his wine. His brow furrowed and jaw clenched, Sarah snuggled her cheek into his chest. Trying to understand the bitterness. Kaleb however was done seemingly, tightening his grip on his younger cousin and not uttering a word. She let it sit as they walked, she knew better than to press him.

For a while they walked, the splitter heavy on Kaleb’s shoulder as Sarah watched the sky warm and become alight with the pretty blue of spring. The spots of sunlight burned through the mists that still floated, and Kaleb worked his jaw with every step.

“It will be ok Kaleb…Poppa knows what he’s doing.”

Kaleb softened and smiled, though it looked worn out “Yeah…You’re right..Honey you’re right.. Pop ain’t wrong…” The last word was strung out and thin.

Sarah could only smile.

-

Hoss had been lucky enough to find a stall to rent along the outer rim of the Bone Yard. It was not a live sale stall, he made sure that the rent taker at her booth knew that wasn’t what he needed.  “Just one to hold a bull iguanodon for me, if you don’t mind Missus?” The woman had nodded a slow nod, her face having the well worn lines of a gal who had worked hard years and had earned a more gentle position in the sale yard. Hoss made sure to smile, give her all the sweetness he could spare while dusty and sweated down. With a shaky four fingered hand she had handed him his receipt, written in brief strokes of which live blood stall was his, in case any sort of snooping started up or people tried to poke at Hoss’s mount. 

“You’re lovely, have a fine one.” He tipped his head and smiled, she finally cracked and gave him her own rise of her lips. Hoss hummed and adjusted his Ducksplitter as he walked with an easy long stride down the wide makeshift halls between stalls. Heavily braced iron gates held smaller creatures in this part of the Live Sale, they honked and whipped their heads in agitation, making quite the racket. It was honestly closer to deafening, but more familiar than any sort of silence would be. Hoss watched with a quiet eye, seeing tenontosauruses with rather pale hides and broken spines to his right. It made his eyebrows bunch at the sight, it was normal to see sad excuses for livestock at times but it didn’t mean he enjoyed it. But the giant of a man didn’t pause, he didn’t need any men poking at him about buying the overpriced cousins to his mount milling around within the pen. 

He continued on, sweeping past the shorter men and women who were leering at each other’s reptiles. Not stopping at the sight of the younger boys who helped wrangle and wrench in the stock from their outer runs. Their still lean shoulders shining with sweat and cuts on their faces. The smaller of the boys slamming a heavy rod to the outer gate and spooking the boulderheads with the noise, making them bolt down the run where another teen stood on the gate ready to manoeuvre as needed. 

Hoss chuckled at the sight, lips twitching. It was always nice to see the younger crowd slip into the muck and get some callouses. Continuing on through he cut between the rows of flier cages, well more like cages that were supposed to have creatures that flew in them. The cramped mesh of quite a few kept them from even stretching out their wings. Petresuars squawked and squealed inside of them, not as many as they would have had on the coast, but a decent few Hoss noticed. Some looked more dank and mellow than others, some hissed and lunged, teeth catching the wire mesh and twisting. Upset and stressed, nothing new. Hoss sighed and rolled his shoulders when he finally came out to the tie ups, where people who needed to do quick business would tie their mounts. 

Not the hauling teams, though the noise and chaos of the area made it feel as though they should just give up and let the haulers have free reign, it's obvious that they would anyway. He eyed a younger man who seemed happy to leave his three Trihorns half tied there, and then stopped dead in his tracks at the Saur that was most definitely not his in the tie up where he left Dog. 

The large rust colored iguanodon was nowhere in sight, neither was Titan who Hoss had very clearly told to stay with the mount. Hoss felt his eye twitch as he looked farther along the posts and nope, nothing. A few more mounts, a well behaved Dilo and a thick nosed nervous Duckbill. Maybe a cow Guana but no Dog. No saddle bags, no bird. Nothing. 

“No..Damn it all. Hey! Cornshuck!” he bellowed and turned on his heels, nerves almost lighting up as anger sparked with worry. Dog was a loyal beast, not one to wander. At the moment though it didn’t make Hoss feel any better. The earlier mentioned boy with the team jumped as Hoss approached. Flicking his eyes to his illegally tied Trihorns. Visibly nervous he started with an apology, Hoss cut him off with a raise of his hand. “Hush it, I know you only tied here for a minute because your pa is inside talking to your halfcousin aunt- Whatever kid, did you happen to see a red and dappled bull Iguanodon tied three posts down?” The boy blinked, his rather cornshuckish blonde hair being swept out of his eyes with a palm, “Ugh, oh well yessir…” his voice quaked. Hoss almost felt his eyes soften at the nerves in the boy’s hands while they shook. But he didn’t have time to be kind, he needed Dog.

“Would you happen to have seen where he went?” his deep rumble of a voice hit a quake on the last word. Making the boy seemingly sweat harder in the humid wet heat. The earlier wind in the gulleys had made it this way, pulling with it heavy cold clouds. Hoss felt the wet wild wind on his already sticky neck and almost twitched. Deep breaths. “Sir- oh a m-man, a tall dark bird of a man took him.. I wasn’t..I didn’t..” Hoss felt something in his mind deepen and darken.

His rifle felt heavier on his shoulder, and the boy had seemingly long noticed it from the way he had begun to worry his shirt collar. Hoss trailed his hazel blazing eyes along the lean arm of the boy as he pointed in the direction the stranger supposedly took Dog. “Did he saddle up? Was he dressed for travel?” The boy shook his head with a shaky negative and gulped, wiping more sweat off his brow. “He made his wa- his way towards the rental stalls sir..Or atleast I think-..” Hoss grunted and turned, “Thanks kid.”

He didn’t look back as he strode for the stalls, hair rising on the back of his neck before he felt the bird land. Behind him Cornshuck yelped, and Titan cooed sweetly on Hoss’s shoulders. “Well hi there you useless piece of pigeon flesh. Now you decide to swing in?” Whirling around the corner and about to lose his temper Hoss fought to take deep breaths, reaching up a knuckle to stroke Titan’s heavy beak. Forcing breaths his hands twitched with an itch to crack a jaw, someone took his mount and fucking walked off with him.

 Somehow.

“Dog ain’t one to roam off on me Tito, where did he go..” Narrowing his eyes he gritted his teeth, before glancing at the now quiet flier perched on his shoulder. An idea poked its head above the water and Hoss snatched it with no level of delicacy. “Titan,” The bird stiffed and twitched with attention. “Tail.”

The bird stared.

Of course, “Damn it all, mother of all the-” The bird let out a low squeak, confused. The word didn’t make sense, because no gun had gone off yet. How would the bird know Dog was the thing he was supposed to be following without the right signals? Hoss grumbled to himself and continued with wide eyes, coming upon the rental stalls with a flourish. Making a few people glance in his direction, though it was probably more due to the fact he had Titan still sitting on his shoulders like the world was warm and to his liking. All was well.

Good for him.

He asked around a few more times trying to make sure his Guano hadn’t rode off into the sunset. All the while getting odd looks from the more well dressed people he didn't even bother to talk to. Who knew if they could even tell the difference between a Tenon or a Guano. So he strode past, and got a vague gesture from an older man with a very surprised looking mustache. As he got farther down the stalls, he felt the weight lift from his shoulder. Grunting he narrowed his eyes as Titan took off for the stalls, wings wide and gliding gently into one about three rows from where Hoss stood. 

Jaw clenched he tugged his rifle off his shoulder with an ease, though wary as he walked further down. Counting off the stall numbers passively in his mind, and pausing as the one he rented stood in front of him. Hoss stood dumbly for a moment, suspicious and rather confused. Then Dog’s bright broad snout poked out, and he let loose a happy trill at seeing the big game hunter. Hoss blinked and quickly caught the Guano’s nose in his free hand, running a thumb over the ridge as the beast happily hummed. Sweet and tender. 

“What in the blazes Big Dog?” He breathed and pressed his forehead gently to the bull’s snout. The creature hummed again, nosing him. A swell of wing flaps made Hoss look up, Titan settling himself in one of the upper supports without a hint of tension. 

But instead with an apple.

“The hell-?”

“Damn Hoss, you really that rared up to shoot nowadays? To think, I brought your mount in out of the heat for you!” Hoss wrenched his head to the side, and laughed. Softly at first before it rose in his chest. Almost childishly he slipped away from his beast and grinned at the man on the top of the gate. 

Dark haired and even darker eyed, body tall and lean balanced on the side board like he was meant to sit there, smiling all the while. “Tango! By Freyda you jerk!”

Tango leapt down with a thud, his collarless shirt sweated through and curls almost fuzzy with moisture. But Hoss was pulling him into a hug all the same, Tango happily returning it as more laughter echoed through the stalls. The two men embraced for a warm moment before Hoss grabbed his old friend by the shoulders to look at him, eyes blazing with deep affection caused only by time. “I didn’t know you were hauling down here! I would have come sooner!” The smaller man shrugged, lips hitching up to a crooked smile. “Nah, ain't no need for all that. I know you're a roamer, I ain’t haulin’ anyway.” Hoss blinked at that, curious. “You ain’t hauling? No herds to pull in here? Did..?” It was a trailed off sentence, one that made the other man raise a coal black eyebrow. “I still got all my limbs, you can look at me and tell that you ugly bastard.” 

Hoss huffed at that, his face flushing as the other man began to lead him to some benches off to the side of the stable. Good seats for cleaning off boots or just catching a breath, outside a flash of heat lightning glanced off the sky. Tango plopped down and picked up a canteen from under the wooden bench, holding it out to Hoss with a smile. The larger took it with a soft thankful nod, and settled himself. Watching the open side of the stables as more lightning bounced across the sky, he sipped the canteen and hummed happily. Lukewarm, but tipped with the hot splash of ginger that kept a stomach from souring on hot days. He almost groaned at the taste, it's been a long time since he had switchel. “Thanks, by the goddess, it's been hot since I got here.” Tango nodded, wiping more sweat off his own brow. “Its been like that for days now, some of the out of towners think this rain is gonna make it liveable. But that cold wind almost makes me feel worse knowing we have all this stock here.”

Hoss nodded, sipping the water and letting his eyes close in a long blink. “Its gonna be a damn slurry in a few minutes, hard packed ground made up like this? Gonna be fun.” Tango shook his head, leaning back and accepting the water for just a moment before handing it back to Hoss with a shake of his head. “Youv’e been on the trail,” He said as he finished his sip. “ You need it more than I do. I’ve been nipping the stuff all day.” Hoss gave him a sweet smile in thanks, before gesturing at him with a large hand. “Now, why aren't you haulin’? Get tired of the work or..?”

Tango shrugged, sweat once again getting in his eyes as the thunder finally rolled over them. Titan squeaked at the noise, before settling again at Hoss’s soft hum, still picking at his apple above the two men. Hoss sipped the ginger water again, as Tango blinked rapidly. “Damn it that stings, well y’know..I got sorta tired of roaming for a minute, dodging bulls.” Beside him Hoss raised his eyebrows, surprised at the very thought. He got a mild glance, as Tango continued. “Got some people around the sale that…I think I need to stick around a bit closer for.” Hoss blinked at that. Eyebrows raising even higher in a soft question. Tango instead of answering silently chewed on his bottom lip, not on a tin of chewing tobacco, Hoss noticed silently. For a long moment the two friends sat and listened to the hard gusts that began to reach the sale yard. Beside Hoss, Tango eventually shifted. “I love working the bulls and all, I mean I do. I love helping move them, love getting them here and shoved where they need to go. Kept happy for a while before I get to go see a whole new batch of animals when those sell. But… Hoss I..”

The usual spark of brilliant, almost annoying energy hit a different tone in the man’s eyes, a twinkle that held a softness. Hoss let loose a breath, he knew the cousin of that look. “You love it but?” The blonde leaned back and tilted his head, watching as his dear friend blinked and stared out past the now drizzle outside. “But…I think..I wanna be here more. I..If you so much as crack a smile Hoss I’ll tear your hair out..” The threat had some level of bite to it, but it was softened by a gentle curve to the man’s face that spoke of thought. Hoss nodded with all the seriousness he could manage, getting a swipe from his friend who noticed the light mirth shining in his eyes. “Hush it!” Tango’s black eyes blazed, as Hoss fought a chuckle rising in his throat. “I’m hushed! You’re the one beating around the bush!” The jab was caught and accepted by the darker man as he smirked, “Fine, I..Shit well fine. The clerk here..She handles the money and a good portion of the receipts. Checks the books you know?” 

Hoss blinked, slowly turning to stare at his friend, who raised his eyebrows . “What in the shit are you staring at me like that for?” Tango had a grit to his teeth now, always one to get easily fired up. Beside him Hoss leaned back as his friend leaned forward, “Would that girl happen to be missing a finger..And maybe 50?” Hoss could not help his worried tone, the image of the older lady he had met earlier in the day looming over him. Like the haunt of a grandma. At that Tango choked and started to laugh, hard. A bark of sudden laughter that ended as quickly as it started, “No??” Hoss huffed at that, his cheeks burning again at the misunderstanding. Tango leaned forward with a grin as mean as a snake. “Hoss did you think I was trying to get up in- Shut UP-!” Rubbing his face Hoss flushed again, trying very hard to ignore the awful mental images that flooded his mind. “My receipt was given to me by an old lady alright! By Freyda you’re disgusting!" Tango barked another laugh at that, eyes glinting. “You’re the one who thought I wanted to get up and into some bloomers that are older than me! 

“Well what are you trying to get up into?! Ohh by the goddess I hate that I said thattt..” Hoss groaned again, hating his life and the man beside him who wheezed with enough force to make Dog look up. Huffing the Iguanodon quickly decided it wasn’t enough to worry about. Leaning down to drink from his water that Tango had gotten for him, long before Hoss had found them. Tango chuckled like a madman as Hoss struggled to regain some semblance of composure, head in his hands and fighting off his own laughter. “I hate you.” Tango leaned with a sharp burst of force onto the man next to him, smiling wide and fluttering his eyelashes. “Nahhhhh, you don’t.” He chuckled a long moment, before his eyes caught a cool light and his smile dropped “But if you wanna know..” The laughter died for a moment, that odd soft look back and smoothing Tango’s features. Hoss glanced up, face still burning but cooling with the cold air coming off the wind. 

Tango sat a long moment, hands in his lap and shoulder still on Hoss’s. Eventually his drawl swept over the pitpat of drops on the roofs. “Her name is Kittie..Just a sweet shy little thing that acts like the saurs are the scariest things she’s ever seen. I….She came out while I was chewing once, a couple months ago. She didn’t see me at first, just wandered out and watched the boulder pens like she was scared they’d leap at her.” Tango, a man so bred for livestock and the iron locks of gates softened gently as the memory flickered past his eyes. Hoss settled to listen, feeling a warmth grow in his chest. “She has the sweetest face Hoss, I mean the softest  eyes I’d ever seen…” He trailed off again, before rubbing his face and smiling. “I talked to her, couldn’t help it. I had always noticed she was a cute thing, but she just never..Spoke. Never leapt out at me. I assumed she was a nervous little thing without a spine to speak of. Hiding during the sales..Hiding from the rougher folk behind her desk.”

Tango leaned back, his eyes dancing along the downpour now happening beyond the eave. Hoss only listened, elbows on his knees and gentle as always. “ Then I saw her, just trying to get closer to the stock like it took the breath out of her lungs to do it, she was shaking Hoss. But she got closer anyway. Made me look at her differently? Yknow?” He didn’t look at his friend when he said it, Hoss didn’t open his mouth to speak. Tango knew the answer himself, he didn’t need his friend’s help. “So I hopped down, and talked to her. She jumped like a startled kid when I did, I won’t say I was the sweetest to her..But after a few shaky breaths she talked to me. Cut and whippy voice, like the whistle of wings Hoss. Different.” Hoss knew what Tango was describing, where that mouse was probably from. The man however didn’t say a word about it, and neither did Tango. “I let her get close, told her about them. She kept coming, every other day I was here. Then it became everyday, getting less shaky. I..Hoss she brought me water and asked me so many questions about it all. I started hanging around her office and almost being late for the sale..”

Hoss smiled, never having seen his friend as whipped as this. He had girls hang on him before, but not him hung up on one. Not like this. Tango then shook his head with a low smile, the look of placid warmth still there but fading off. Tango had never been one to linger on soft underbellies in conversations, “I ain’t giving up on hauling forever y’know, I can always come back to it.” Hoss nodded, ever the listener to his friend’s schemes. Ever since they had met, when Hoss was a tired teen trying to shake off hooks and chains the guild had hammered into him. Hooks that are still in his ribs, but hurt less now. They just are what they are, the skin grown in and over them. Tango had helped with that.

“So what? You working for one of the local ranchers?” Hoss took another drag of the switchel, enjoying the burn in his belly. Tango let out a rueful bark in response, grinning wildly as the quiet tenderness fled. “Nah, I work with the sale owner. Helping with the sellers and their shit.” Nodding Hoss let out an amused noise. “Hah, so you’ll be dealing with people like you every day. That's not a bad gig, you help with ticketing the sales with the auctioneer? Still helping with the walk arounds?” 

The men talked for a while, the two of them. Tango, with his deep tanned skin and ever shifting smile, and Hoss with his golden curls and freckled face. They made a pair, had for a long time. When Fletcher had finally loosened his grip and let Hoss loose, they had met. Hoss had been desperate for someone without a badge to talk to, who didn’t know the dead bodies he had wandered after for sixteen odd years. So he had crept to the sale yard with some mount Fletcher had loaned him for “getting out”, just to be around something he knew. No lawmen or lines of names all trying to tell him what he should do, no Fletcher smiling at him like times were still good. Hoss could pet an animal that wasn’t his, meander and talk to people who didn’t know his name.

Meet a boy, “Oh so you brought some bone with ya! Y’know if you bleached em right  I know a couple people would love em for hilts, knife handles and the works.” 

Who couldn’t care less. 

“You’re a blessin Tang, I mean it.”

-

It was a slicing warm wind, one that tore and ran like wild horses down the gullies and ravines. Twisting curling gasps puffed from nonexistent nostrils between the rock faces with every break between the gusts. 

Hoss smiled low and warm to himself from where he sat amongst the many faces of stone, in one of the dips in the edge of the ravines. An old site of a slide, long cemented and stable. His thick wrap curled over his broad shoulders, a light grey speckled in long faded pecks of blue. It was tucked tight, even his own frame could fall victim to the howling that was that wind. 

Storm was on its breath, he could smell it as it picked up the pace and screamed past. Freyda’s hums bounced off the walls and made the smile on the man’s face grow. Mostly shielded from the gust he could just sit and enjoy the noise. Hoss was never one to be spooked by the sounds of the wild, calls of lizards or the songs of the Goddess didn’t make his hair raise. The man had grown up with those whispers in his ears, having relatives with sweet soft eyes tell him of the legends. Tell him of the monsters.

Behind him, heavy and pebble skinned, Big Dog hummed. 

Hoss huffed and twisted to glance at the iguanadon, who had settled easily on the rocks with a grunt earlier in the hour when they had stopped to rest. Now his mighty head was raised, large eyes curious. Hoss reached back to tap the massive side of the beast with his knuckles, tracing the faint lines of rusty red along his flank. Big Dog hummed again, twisting his head ever so slightly. “What? Cmon Bigs use your words..” Hoss murmured it and looked up, knowing nothing could have been close enough to be of danger…Yet. The Iguanadon would have told him already, with a long grunt or a hurried rise to his feet. Easier to dig a sharp thumb into an enemy standing up of course, or follow Hoss’s lead. Now however, Dog laid relaxed and rather unbothered. He was a gentle soul with a calm demeanor in all the right moments, good for Hoss when he needed clean signals from his beast.

Especially since he had struck out on his own to avoid another contract with the guild. He needed someone he could trust out here. 

Dog continued to only sit still, his breath still easy and eyes still sweet as ever. Hoss followed his lead, listening to the wind and trying to sift past the hums. Close to him though, with its curved stock and long barrel, sat his Ducksplitter. A heavy gun that felt more like an extension of his arm than a tool, even when it disturbed him to think about it. It was true. 

Hoss did not end up hearing their newest company. No trumpeting calls or falling rocks, he caught sight of it first.

Broad winged, a flier soared along the ravine.

Deep blue and speckled with whites and grays it barreled towards them. Throwing its wings so it twisted to curve out of the wind that helped jet it forward. Hoss let out a low breath and stood, watching the way the wings whirled above him and his beast. Dog kept an eye on Hoss, deep green irises brimming with trust as it eyed his master’s broad frame and watched his shoulders roll back to shake away the stiffness. The Iguanadon did not do more than spare the bird a glance, as it twisted and glided close.

Hoss set his feet, watching the bird with curious eyes. Lifting an arm, the creature took the command with ease. Vivid yellow eyes locked onto the man and its weight landed with a sweep of its dappled skin wings. The pterosaur flapped once or twice to flick away the lack of balance as its left foot curled and gripped Hoss’s shoulder. The creature caught his forearm with its right wing and its clawed paw. It settled easily, large crest striped with red and softer navy greys of its flesh and stripping away to the bone like hardness of it’s beak. In which was clutched a chain, flat and decorated with a round disk of copper.  Hoss hummed softly in praise as he raised the bird to check it over, allowing himself to spin and enjoy the weight of the creature. Titan was large for his breed, the tapejara sturdy and young. His neck stretched as he silently twisted closer. His right wing flapping open and swatting the air and making Hoss pause. “What? C’mon, you can’t come barreling through here and almost knock me over just to be a pain, tell me.” 

 Titan’s eyes dilated as its training quickly became remembered at the trigger phrase. He clicked low in his throat in response, like the slap of lard in a hot pan. The sizzling of meat hissing, high pops slipping from the closed dark beak. It’s glaring yellow eyes flicking to Hoss’s hands as it continued.

Hoss clenched his jaw, pausing as he glanced back towards the ravine with a new sense of waryness. Dog continued to watch his master quietly, as the flier twitched and let loose another string of popping when Hoss was no longer looking at him. Hoss flicked his green rimmed hazel eyes to the flier and smiled softly. “Good, good boy Titan,” He slipped a hand into his pockets beneath his wrap, the bird staring with rapt attention and letting loose a squeak of excitement. The popping grew louder with impateince and Hoss gently hushed the bird and slipped the chain from his beak, not allowing his newest problems to make him be cruel to the young excited avian. 

Having pulled out a nut from one of his inside pockets he flicked it up into the air, praising the bird once more. Titan snapped his mighty beak and barely nicked the nut, letting out a click as he snapped again. This time catching it as it fell, as Hoss was slipping the chain into his other pocket. Dog stood slowly, his own nerves not yet prickled at the bird and his signals, but watching Hoss with all the trust of his namesake. Titan clicked and worked on his treat while Hoss flicked his eyes along the ravine once more. Along the once comforting wind barriers, now with a frown, “Titan,” The bird snapped up, “Stick close.” His voice carried with a murmur, the command making the tapejara twitch and slip off his shoulder gliding to the ground. Hoss adjusted his Duck rifle and slipped it off his shoulder as he began an easy, though not slow walk, back to Dog. Hair being blown by the snuffling of his mount Hoss  checked down the sights of the weapon. The mountain of a man shouldered it once more as he reached to scratch the brow ridge of Dog, who as always leaned into the touch. Hoss let out a soft sigh.

He hauled himself with ease onto the saddle, Dog rumbling as the soft tap of Hoss’s heels made him roll forward with an oddly graceful gait. The light ridge of the back of his neck got a light pet as Hoss once again unshouldered his rifle, and flicked his thumb along the cold metal with a slick narrow of his eyes. Blonde and slightly red curls caught the light as they slipped out of the ravine and began to reach higher ground. Titan with his ever graceful glide landed with ease on the high hip of the Iguanadon, who only let loose a snort and his skin twitching at being used by the tapejara in such a way. Hoss gave him another pat at being patient with the youngest member of their party, then reached to the strap of ammo that curved along his barrel chest. Under his wrap, blinks of brass shined in the peeking afternoon sun between the folds of cloth. He grunted and checked the load already seated in the Ducksplitter, hazel eyes squinting and counting. Checking and rechecking that the rifle was loaded, that nothing blocked the chamber. All while Dog eased along, now breathing deep into his chest while Titan clicked and picked at his beak. 

Hoss twisted himself back to squint at the now slowly receding ravine. The nearest town was still a day long trek, he tapped the brass on his chest with a deep frown. Eyebrows knitting as he did the math. He sighed softly, mind wandering to how it had almost been nice to have a posse to travel with. Good company and new faces, Hoss felt his lip downturn as his mouth went sour. Rejecting the idea, with an internal harsh shove, before tapping and counting his ammunition once more.

For a while the air had a tenseness to it, one of a twitching jaw and taunt skin. Hoss keeping his rifle handy, and his menagerie of critters quiet at his obvious seriousness. Titan, even if he was still being trained, knew Hoss and his very human body language by now. Knew that when the rifle sat that way, he needed to be quiet. Not tense, no. The gun had not been raised. Dog, who had been with the man for many years now, could feel the way he held himself. Coming to the same conclusion, silence was necessary. Not with so many words of course, but still. They trusted Hoss. He was not afraid, only tense. The two animals fed off his mood and continued on, Hoss once more letting loose a low hum and clicking in the back of his throat after the hour of silence. 

Titan snapped up, wings twitching with nervous energy of a working animal still learning to control itself. Hoss had the chain in his scarred hand, and began to swing it. Letting it travel in a few long oval arcs to his right, the tapejara’s eyes locked onto the copper disk that assisted the clean swings.  Up and down, rounding into a quick circle and emitting a soft whistle that made Titan’s eyes dilate and wings twitch with anticipation. Hoss watched him carefully, not shushing him. 

“Titan.” The whistling of the chain, and the tone now had the bird trembling.

“Roam.”

The chain flew up at the arc of its quick swing, going high as Hoss released it, Titan quickly tearing up and after it with an excited squeak. 

Hoss couldn’t hold in his smile at the pterosaur and his hot blooded response. Titan caught his prize with a pleased hum, twisting in the air and taking off towards the south. Wings finding a comfortable angle, and gliding as he began his rounds.

The wind as wild as ever flapped his thick dust cover, sending his almost raggedly long hair into a frenzy. Hoss chuffed and shoved it out of his eyes, “I have got to get a new hat..” Titan chittered low in his lightly feathered throat from behind the man, though they were more like spines than soft down of a chicken or a real bird. Hoss twisted to glower at the young animal who still seemed pleased with himself at getting another nut, “Don’t sass me, yes again. By Freyda you know I have the worst time of it…Why do you have to keep bringing it up.” Dog snorted, making Hoss twist again to glare at the faun colored lizard. “Big Dog don’t you start on me too. How those damn Saurboys keep their hats is beyond me...”

Titan had returned within the hour from his excursion, landing and only offering a happy sweet coo when asked. Making Hoss sigh, and the tension drip from his massive frame. Now he playfully talked and muttered to his beasts, allowing his thoughts to trail out loud. An odd habit he had always had when riding. It used to get him cuffed, saying he was scaring away herds and attracting scavengers when his family would join him. But Hoss allowed himself to indulge in the fun of playing with his bird and mount. He had been working, long days and nights of helping the Guild with problems he just had to get roped into.

It could have been worse, it really could have been. He could have had to ride alone with Rollo, that smug bastard and his glinting flint eyes. Always a remark, always a jab. Hoss could smell the insecurity from the man, like a pissed on pair of pants. But it didn’t mean he got to drag up Hoss’s dead people just to make himself look better, like it was going to discount that Hoss was just better at the work than him. 

Hoss let out a breath out of his nose, wincing at the thought. He never enjoyed flaunting his skill, it wasn’t something he ever wanted to dangle over some green horn’s nose and make them feel like dirt. Learning is learning, Hoss was often very willing to help any of the young bloods who were new to the trail. As much as he hated being roped and tied, he wouldn’t make it their problem, probably why he kept getting roped in the first place. He didn’t have the heart to be cruel when it wasn’t their fault he was there.

 Another sigh, him leaning back to let the wind tear through his hair as if it would fling the ties off.  

Rollo would spit in his face if he could, take any helping hand as a grave insult to his badge. Hoss had never liked him honestly, even when the man was a boy just grimacing at him like he was some rancid water logged rat that just happened to be pulled out of a barrel. He had actually said that, a low laugh rippled through Hoss’s chest at the memory. Though there was no humor in it. 

“A drowned rat, propped up like a prized Dilo.” Titan chittered softly from behind the smiling man, not understanding the words, but responding to the sounds and melancholy of the tone. Hoss chuckled again, tightening his grip on the reins like it would make it better. Like he could strangle Rollo. He honestly wasn’t worth Hoss’s time, let alone his breath. But the man was a pain, all the same. Only getting slicker with his insults as the two grew up. Though a few did catch them, caught them with surprised glares and set teeth. 

It sent a wave of warmth, a fuzz of sorts at the memory of Jesse from their last posse shared. The dark cloudy man twisting to glare at Rollo like he was shit on his boot, grey eyes narrowing and jaw clenching. “He got the shot you missed by a mile Vanderville, shut your trap or I’ll lock it for you.” It had been a warning snarled across a table, Jesse and the posse tired from travel and bloody from their hunt which had almost gone awry. Hoss hadn’t been expecting such a thing from any of them, he had been oh so tired. Just wanting to sleep, and Rollo wasn’t about to let his grievances go unheard. He had started up, growling and making Hoss pause as he set down another card. 

A slippery insult at Hoss even being there.

Jesse snapping was not what he thought would happen, not even a little. Hoss would have let Rollo grumble and honestly was about to just leave. Go lay down, finish the card game later. Maybe that was what made the trail boss narrow his eyes, that Hoss had been exhausted. Too tired to even smile and chirp a disarming comment that would keep a fight off the table. 

His face was burning as he remembered the harsh set of Jesse’s shoulders, the rough edge of his voice. Hoss blinked and rubbed his plentifully freckled face and almost bleached curls, caused by his lack of a hat and inability to keep one. He chuckled in a concerned way, unable to grasp the heat and why he couldn’t let the image slip from his mind. Jesse was a friend, Hoss honestly had gotten an affection for him within minutes of meeting the grumpy man quite a while ago. The sarcastic and dry sass making Hoss smile wide, now making him rub another calloused palm on his warm face. It was odd.

He let the thought sit before breathing deep and allowing the meandering idea that he would honestly love to travel with the man again. It sat comfortably in his breast, like a ball of yarn soft and vulnerable. 

Working with the man made him feel warm, feel the tethers less closely. 

Hoss hummed, curious but not dwelling too deep on it. He had some horns to sell in the now approaching town and may..May not take off like a scalded dog if another rider found him at the market and smiled that low smile that spoke of contracts and long rides. 

Maybe.

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Maybe this bird stuff isn't tooooo.....Off. I based it on personal experience with training a dog- Plus me having fun.