In a world of laws and outlaws, Ashley finds himself in the middle of the Van Der Linde gang- torn between being good or loyal.
Join Ashley Jones as he drifts between saloons and the dirt road layed out in front of him. Shall he follow it or set foot off the trail and into the depths of loneliness?
~
This is a story about my Red Dead Redemption 2 OC, Ashley Jones! Most, if not all, Canon events from RDR2 will happen in this story, so please be aware of spoilers! This story will be updated slowly and may sometimes be on hiatus due to me being busy with school and more, so please be patient, enjoy! (If there are any spelling mistakes, please tell me âĄ) If you want to be a part of the taglist, comment on the most recent chapter or on this post!
Started: Oct. 8th, 2024 | Ended: ĂĂ,Ă
Prologue
Chapter 1: Mr. Van Der Linde
Chapter 2: May the Tents be Home
ACT 1: COLTER
Chapter 3: Hoof in the Snow
Chapter 4: Blood between Bared Fangs
Chapter 5: It's the Hunting Business
Chapter 6: My Cold, Crimson Bullets...(Act 1 Final)
In all seriousness though⊠BADS will not be getting updates anytime soon, motivation to write is through the core of earth and won't come back for awhile. For now, I will post Ashley x Kieran and Ashley content in general like this, please enjoy!
Chapter 6 will most likely take forever. With school ending and summer coming up, you'd expect chapters would be rolling out with all the extra free time, but it's the exact opposite.
Home is not a working environment and I can't write there for some odd reason. At school, I had designated work time in a writing class where I could focus on writing and nothing else, but now that time is being taken away and I'm going to find it difficult to find a working environment where I could solely focus on writing.
So expect Chapter 6 to come out way later, or maybe not at all until I'm in my writing class again. But I promise you guys I will try to continue writing during the summer, just at a slow pace.
!!!TW: detailed description of gore, loss of character!!!
AN- not proofread, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm very proud of it B)
It wasnât long after he woke up that Ashley began to hear the usual bickering in the camp. He sighed, running a hand over his face. His scars were acting up again, even after four years. It felt like a match under his skin, constantly burning. His fingers twitched as he tried his best to endure the tingling burn beneath his skin.
Ashley made his way toward the men's quarters, but the sound of two men caught his ear. He recognized them as Arthur and Pearson. Arthur was unwillingly listening to the bigger man speak about his time in the navy and his inability to get any supplies when he left Blackwater.
âWell, when government agents are hunting you down, sometimes shopping trips need to be cut short!â Arthur argued.
Ashley turned the corner, leaning against the cold wood of the overhead and silently observing them. âWeâll survive. We always have. If it needs to be, we can eat you,â Ashley pressed his lips together, stifling a small laugh. âYouâre the fattest,â Arthur insulted.
"I sent Lenny and Bill hunting, and they found nothing." Pearson gestured toward the mountains with a spoon.
âLenny's more reliable with books than a bow, no offense,â Ashley added, mumbling the last part to himself. âAnd Billâs just⊠yâknow.â
"Enough of this," Ashley jumped, pushing himself off the wood as a deep voice growled behind him. His heart pounded against his ribs, rattling them.
âJesus- what's up with everyone sneakinâ up on me,â Ashley mumbled beneath his breath as he watched Charles walk past him. Arthur chuckled, a smirk on his lips. Ashley sent the man a playful glare, shaking his head before his eyes trailed back to Charles.
âWeâll go find something. Come on, guys,â Charles beckoned. Pearson quickly stopped them, grabbing a jar and tossing it to Ashley.
He caught it and began to read the label aloud. ââAssorted: Salted Offalâ...â Ashley's face twisted slightly. âI ainât ever hungry enough to eat this.â
âStarving would be preferable,â Arthur grunted. Charles sighed, impatient as he beckoned again for the two men to follow.
Ashley stopped Charles, a gloved hand on his shoulders. âAin't that hand still hurt?â
âIâll track, and you two will hunt.â
Charles was always a man of few words, so Ashley and Arthur took what little he said and followed closely behind him. The three men saddled their horses before riding off into the mountains.
It wasnât long before Charles picked up a trail, the tiny hoof prints dancing in the snow. Ashley took his bow out while Arthur unholstered his rifle. Charles looked over his shoulder, quickly halting Arthur with a shout. âWhoa, not with that. Thatâll scare every damn animal around here.â Charles took out his own bow, pulling back on the reins to ride past Arthur and handing it to him.
âYouâve gottaâ be jokinâ,â Arthur groaned, the unfamiliar weapon sitting in his hand.
âYouâll get used to it,â Ashley said over his shoulder.
âIf I remember correctly, you canât hunt unless youâve got a bottle of whiskey in your hands,â Arthur barked, a smirk on his face. The words hit like a train. His chest was tight, as if the devil himself were gripping the beating heart in his chest. He knew Arthur had met with no harm. So, with a half-hearted laugh, he masked his hurt. âHow do you know how to use a bow?â
âI canât track, but I can shoot a bow like a gun. I used to run with a hunter who taught me. Iâve perfected it since then.â He waved the bow in the air, his voice high with pride.
The rest of the hunting trip went by like a breeze. Charles tracked down a herd of deer, and Arthur and Ashley shot them, though Arthur missed a couple of shots. Each man had a carcass on the rump of his horse by sunrise, a score that seemed miraculous in the desolate mountains. Charles led the way back while Arthur and Ashley rode close behind.
Arthur and Charles were talking up a storm, a conversation Ashley didnât find interesting. Instead, his mind wandered to the upcoming raid on the O'Driscolls that Dutch was planning. He didnât exactly want to go, but the man had already assigned him a job: stay hidden and attack the back lines while the rest of the O'Driscolls were busy defending the front lines from Dutch and the others.
His thumb ran over the reins, its bumpy surface grounding him to reality. They were too vulnerable. Everyone was starving and freezing to death, and Dutch wanted to do a raid? Ashley thought the plan was something only a dumb man would plan, but who was he to question Dutch's authority?
Suddenly, Noelle hesitated to go forward. Her hooves stamped the ground, and her head bobbed. âWhatâsââ
Charles let out a sharp shush. Ashley looked over, his brow furrowing as he realized the other men's horses were also nervous. Charles' bandaged hand pointed ahead. Ashley followed the direction, and his blood ran cold as he spotted the source of their fear.
Messy, bark-colored fur peeked from behind a large tree, matted with pine needles and dirt. Its paws were the size of melons, perhaps larger. A grunt rolled through the space; its cold, black eyes stared ahead, and its meaty paws clawed at the ground as if the world itself were its enemy.
His cheek pulsed, and his scar began to itch and sting. Whether he wanted it or not, the memory boiled up in his mind. Festering pain, the weight of death itself on his chest, the taste of his blood. For a moment, he wasn't a man with a gun; he was a man bleeding in the dirt again, his arms cradling his life, praying to disappear.
| April 7, 1891 - Age 24 |
âNow you oughta have the backdoor trots after eatinâ that sonâa bitch!â Vincent howled, slapping his knee. Fat tears ran down his twisting cheeks, his teeth bared as he laughed.
Ashley groaned, holding his stomach. "Shouldn't have eaten that thingâŠ" His guts gurgled and bubbled, the feeling reaching his chest. "Oh⊠oh, God. Where's an outhouse?" His voice cracked, a groan slipping between his words.
Vincent only wheezed, bucking over and cackling. His arms held his stomach, and his blonde hair fell over his face.
âVincent! Iâm serious, Iâm gonâ shit myself! Oh my godâŠâ Ashley sucked in a break, holding in a loud groan. His arms were tight around his waist as he squeezed his eyes shut.
âOkay, okay! T-there's one over there!â Vincent pointed into the distance, his hand trembling as he bit back another laugh. Ashley rushed off, his legs wobbly and unsteady.
After a long twenty minutes in the outhouse, the man walked out. His face looked tired but relieved.
âHow was your adventure?â The blonde-haired man smirked, his arms crossed over his chest. Ashley looked up from the ground. Vincent's blue eyes had a teasing glint in them, his lashes framing it perfectly.
âBoth ends.â Ashley breathed out. Vincent's face turned into confusion. âIt came out of both ends.â Vincent's eyes widened as the realization of what Ashley meant crept in. A snort from him ripped through the air, making Ashley sigh with annoyance.
âAlright!â Ashley snapped, not exactly angry but annoyed enough for his brows to stitch together. âCan we please hunt for more food?â Vincent hummed, his head nodding through a deep, humorous sigh.
Later that day, the men cleaned their bows, changed their clothes, and prepared their horses. As they rode down the path leading to the forest, the sun beamed down on their skin, and the air felt musty and thick. Ashley was glad he wore lighter clothing instead of his Poncho. Even so, the fabric clung to his skin like glue, and sweat beads collected at his temple.
Next to him, Vincent sat comfortably on his horse, Renos, an old gray mustang. His hands were busy fixing an old gun, something his father had gifted him, Ashley believed. The ride was quiet and peaceful. Words were exchanged without any being said. The men knew each other like that. Ashley knew when Vincents ears got red, he was lying, or when he cocked his head to the side he felt uncomfortable. When he was quiet, it meant something bad had happened, and he didnât have the guts to say it, but the silence now was a soft, warm hug that lasted a few seconds too long.
Ashley searched Vincent, his eyes flickering up and down his figure. He looked for things he's already mentally noted many times before. The way his fingers moved across the old, cold metal. That scar on his forearm flexed as his arm moved, how his beach-blond hair stuck to his forehead and bounced as Renos' hooves clamped against the ground.
Before Vincent could notice, Ashley stopped staring. His teeth bit his lip, and he stared at his lap. He's told himself time and time again that the queasy feeling that bubbled up in his stomach and chest every time he even glanced at Vincent was just a nervous tick, something that just happens, but there was always a voice in his head. A tiny version of himself that knocked at the door of his consciousness with a question that he refused to invite in.
Once they arrived, the two men slid off their horses, hitching them at the outskirts of the forest. Ashley readied his bow, swinging it over his shoulder. âThink weâll get somethinâ?â He asked as the two of them entered the forest.
âWell⊠Itâs not deer season, but I'm sure we can snag something out here.â Vincent replied, shrugging his shoulders. â Râmember how to use that bow I gave yaâ?â Ashley nodded before looking at his surroundings.
The forest was dense, shaded with bustling leaves and fluffy bushes. With the vegetation being so lively, many animals must reside here. The dirt crunched beneath their boots, leaf litter caking the ground, and beams of sunlight cut through the trees.
Vincent clicked his tongue. Ashley swung his head in his direction, catching the way he held a finger to his lips and was hunched over. Ashley quickly ducked down, following Vincent's actions. Everything was quiet besides the rustling leaves dancing in the wind, which confused Ashley. What was he trying to listen to here?
He furrowed his brows, shaking his head, and shrugging his shoulders at the blonde man. Vincent raised his brows and jerked his head to the side, gesturing over the hedge of a bush they were taking cover in. Ashley peered over, and his heart jumped at the sight.
A large buck grazed the grass. Its antlers stood outstretched and towering. Ashley ducked back down, a huge smile on his face. This was a score. Finding a game like that outside of deer season? They had to have been blessed by the Gods.
âYou got this,â Vincent whispered, his voice soft and encouraging. It soothed the tight, swirling anxiety in his stomach, only to be replaced with that queasy feeling as Vincent patted his shoulder. Ashley shot him a nervous smile before pulling the bow out from behind him.
His steps were light and slow so that the decaying leaf beneath him wouldnât crunch. His breathing was shallow and light, and his emerald eyes were locked onto the oblivious buck. As soon as the man got a good angle on the animal, he stopped and readied his bow.
Ashley notched the arrow on the strings, trapping the wood between his pointer and ring finger. His other hand gripped the bow tightly as he cocked his arm back. The string groaned, loud but not loud enough the alert the buck. With one eye closed and a deep breath out, he released the arrow.
The air screamed as the arrow cut through the trees and between the eyes of the deer. It was painless and quick. The buck didnât even know what happened to it. The body fell, a loud thud onto the floor. Ashley shot up from his spot and yelled, âYes!â
Vincent did the same, running over towards him and placing two strong hands on his shoulders. âHoly shit, you did it!â Vincent laughed, a toothy smile on his face. Ashley felt his stomach bubble at the touch. He couldnât register it when Vincent suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. âWeâre gonna eat for days!â
Ashley blinked, wide-eyed and still, before he hugged the man back with a nervous laugh. âY-Yeah, we are,â He stammered, nodding.
Vincent let go, walking towards the carcass. Though Ashley was still trying to process the sudden hug. His legs felt like jelly, and his heart skipped a beat. He blinked a couple of times, trying to come out of his daze as he heard a crunch off in the distance. He looked up, and for a moment, time had stopped. Everything felt like a blur as he screamed, a blood-curdling scream that would haunt anyone for years.
Vincent swung his head over at Ashley, opening his mouth to say something, but those words never left his throat. In fact, no words will ever come out of him again. The only sound that he managed was a strangled, gasping scream, followed by a gurgle of blood, and then by silence. Deafening, painful silence.
Ashley's eyes were wide. The air in his throat was stuck, but as soon as it was released. He couldnât stop it. His breathing was erratic, quick, short, burning. A wail escaped from the depths of his soul. Fat tears lined his vision as he stumbled to the ground.
It stood there, massive and bulky. It was like a nightmare dress in matted, bloody fur. Its jaw still hung open from the fatal blow to Vincent's throat, bloody, dripping with ropes of crimson red. Ashley's chest heaved as he let out choked cries. His stomach twisted and turned, bile rising to his throat. Its eyes stared into his soul. Fury and hatred mixed within a dark, never-ending void. A throaty growl rumbled out from the beast, low and deep. It wasnât just a sound, but a weight that vibrated through the ground beneath Ashley's body.
Ashley couldnât move, no matter how hard he tried. Even when the beast roared and ran towards him, his body was rooted to the ground. It took its claws to rip through his face to snap him out of his daze.
There was no time to react. Burning, white fire spread across his face. It was like nothing he's ever felt before. He swore his face was gone, clawed off. He heard his flesh tear. Heâll would forget that sound. The squishy sound of blood spurting and the gut-wrenching, sickening sound of skin tearing like paper. The popping of his muscles and flesh separating from bones. The snap of nerves being torn apart. A sound tore out of him, broken and choked. It was barely human, animalistic.
He felt everything at once, all the pain and agony. The feeling of metallic redness pouring down his jaws, pooling in his mouth. It was ironic, really. His heart pumped blood, the thing keeping him alive, was killing him at the same time. Pumping more and more blood out of the mutilated flesh, down his throat, choking him. He gurgled, spitting up blood, coughing, and trying his best to keep his arms pushing up against the blinding weight on top of him, which roared and screamed.
Ashleys eyes were wide, those emerald eyes dim and yet still glistening with tears. He let out a cry, his hand flailing over his hips before it touched a familiar, cold metal. With desperation, his fingers fumbled with the gun. He coughed up more and more blood, the crimson liquid staining his shirt.
Blinding pain shot through his face as he let out a harrowing cry of pure terror, pointing the gun at the jaw of the animal and pulling the trigger over and over and over again. Even when the gun clicked, the beast went limp above him, its blood mixing with his, he didnât stop.
The clicking of the gun slowly came to a stop as his mind caught up with his hands. The pain was unbearable, but the adrenaline that raced through him gave him the strength to crawl out from under the dead beast. His breathing didnât sound human. It rattled and popped with blood inside his throat. He lay limp on the ground for a moment, staring up at the sky with blown-out pupils. His head lolled to the side, the leaf litter crunching beneath him, and then he saw him.
Vincent lay pale and unmoving on the ground. His breathing hitched, his eyes were unblinking, as if he closed his eyes, he would have to accept that Vincent was gone. With a gurgled groan, his arms clawed against the ground, pulling his body like dead weight. His lips quivered, and his teeth clattered as the realization began to sink in. When he was merely a few inches away from the cold man, a shaking hand reached out and grabbed his blood-stained shirt.
He shook the body. âVi⊠VinceâŠâ He mumbled through clenched teeth, propping himself up with an elbow. âHey⊠wake up.â He shook the body again, as if he would magically blink and greet him back. âVincentâŠâ Ashley tried again.
He blinked. âVincent, please. Please.â He choked out, the lump in his throat threatening to unlodge. He sat there, waiting for Vincent to sit up and hug him again. To say this was all just some messed-up joke, but he never did. His eyes still stayed dim. His lips were still blue. His throat was still ripped out. Vincent would never come back, and when Ashley realized that, he let out a throat-tearing cry. The pain in his face flared, but it couldnât compare to the crushing weight of grief in his chest as he cradled his life. His Vincent.
The outline of Chapter 5 is finished, and I am every happy to say that the final draft has been started! Again, I myself have no idea how long it will be until this chapter comes out...
For now, I will tell you this next chapter is a blast in the past for Ashley :))
The outline of Chapter 5 is finished, and I am every happy to say that the final draft has been started! Again, I myself have no idea how long it will be until this chapter comes out...
For now, I will tell you this next chapter is a blast in the past for Ashley :))
The wagon wheels were covered in a thick sheet of ice that rooted itself into the cold ground, so their stay was longer than Dutch intended. The gusting winds that threatened to blow over the cabins had slowed into a soft breeze. The last two days were spent saving energy and planning for the day they would attack the OâDriscoll camp nearby.
The rustle of hay beneath Ashley's boots caused the horseâs ear to twitch in his direction before they turned their bodies so their heads hung over the stall door. Ashley held a bucket of carrots and apples in his arms and smiled beneath his bandana. âHey there, fellaâs.â He reached into the bucket and began to treat the horses one by one.
Once he finished, he placed the bucket on the ground and walked out of the stables. He had already fed Noelle, who was hitched at a post. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, the cold eating through his gloves. His feet dragged in the snow as he walked towards the large cabin where the women were settled in. The fire in there could warm his hands up a bit; plus, checking up on the ladies wouldnât hurt.
Ashley pushed the door open, quickly closing it behind him to prevent the warm, inviting air from slipping out. Almost immediately, he felt the goosebumps along his arms even out. He sighed deeply, letting his shoulders slump slightly.
âHi, Ashley,â Tilly greeted. Ashley nodded in her direction, the crinkle in his eyes a tell-tale sign of the grin under the mask. She smiled back before returning her attention to Mrs. Adler. She didn't look too well. Large dark circles covered the underside of her eyes, and her beach sand-colored hair seemed to clump into a ball at the back of her head. The poor woman looked like she didnât bother caring for herself anymore.
As he was about to walk to the fire, he suddenly felt a hand behind him wrap around his sleeve. A bit startled, Ashley tugged his arm away and turned around abruptly. The familiar blue eyes and black hair made him sigh with relief. âMs. Roberts, you scared me,â He chuckled.
Abigail didn't laugh back, though. Her face looked worried and nervous, as if something had bothered her for days, and Ashley knew exactly what it was. âIt's John, ainât it?â He said quietly, a furrow in his brow. Abigail nodded, his lips pressed into a tight frown.
âHe ainât shown up for two days.â Her voice sounded hoarse and shaky, like she had been crying. She paused, swallowing down her anxiety and clearing her throat of mucus. âIâm sorry, can you look for him- please, I- Iâm worried sick!â Ashley quickly shushed her, placing both hands in front of him.
âHey, it's okay, Abigail. You ainât gotta be sorry for worryinâ,â He reassured, his head tilting to the side slightly. âIâll go ân look for him, donât you worry no more.â
Abigail sighed heavily with relief, a small smile plastered on her lips. Abigail thanked Ashley repeatedly, her hands over her heart. Ashley tipped his hat to her as a welcome before he opened the cabin door and stepped back into the snow.
He didnât think heâd be going out today, but when duty called, he picked it up. Ashley hoisted himself onto Noelle and clicked his tongue. Noelle blew through her nose, shaking her head a bit before walking.
As Ashley rode out into the thick snow, his scars tingled, and his skin felt tight as if someone was pulling it back against his face. He shivered slightly, the chilly wind slipping through the crevices of his coat and smacking against his face. One of his hands left the reins and pulled his bandana over his nose before grabbing the reins again.
The snow was thick and hard to keep Noelle in a trot, and the winds grew stronger the farther up the mountains they went. She was huffing, her head shaking and bobbing. It was obvious that Noelle was upset with the conditions she was being ridden. Ashley didnât want to risk Noelle getting too aggravated and bucking him off, despite knowing she would never. So, he pulled the reins back gently, dipping the speed to a slow walk.
âSorry, girl,â Ashley shushed softly.
He looked down at the snow for any fresh hoof prints. He clicked his tongue and jerked his head, a growl escaping from his throat as the wind blew. The breeze must've blown over the snow and filled the prints up.
He was practically a chicken with no head around here. What was he thinking, going out here to look for John himself? He could barely track a deer, even if his life depended on it.
He groaned deeply, his body slumping forward and his forehead hitting the back of Noelle's neck. âStupid, stupid, stupidâŠâ Ashley half-heartedly hit his head against Noelle as he mumbled to himself. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes staring into the white ground as Noelle walked. It was even and flat, with a few dips here and there.
Ashley shot up from his spot as he recognized the pattern in the snow. Barely there - but there nonetheless. Ashley kicked Noelle into a canter as his eyes followed the trail.
He turned a corner, and the gruesome sight made his stomach turn. He slowed Noelle into a walk again as he approached the mauled horse in front of him before halting her. He swung his leg over her back and slid off, the crimson snow crunching beneath his boots.
Ashley bent over, his hands on his knees as he cocked his head to the side, and his eyes read off the engraving on the medal logo on the horse's saddle. He sucked in a sharp breath as he read the initials âJ.M â. It was John's saddle, no doubt about it. He moved to tug his left glove off his hand. The cold hit his palms immediately. He shook his hand to get the blood flowing to his fingertips. He then placed his hand against the horse, his nails digging through its thick fur until they reached the skin. It was cold but not cold enough to say John was long gone. He couldn't have gotten far.
He sniffled, wiping a hand over his masked nose before he sat back up. The air felt heavy now, the gravity of the situation settling upon Ashleyâs shoulders. He bit his lower lip, pinching thin layers of skin between his teeth as he wrapped his hand around the handle of his gun and pulled it out of its holster. He aimed it up into the sky, his finger on the trigger. A crack echoed into the mountains, and his eyes squeezed shut as he shot the gun, the snowy air seeming to clear where the bullet fired.
Everything was quiet except for the howling winds. Ashley sighed, putting the gun away as disappointment hung at his shoulders.
âHey! Help, over here!â
Ashley's head perked up as he recognized the grainy voice. He hurried towards John's voice, leaving Noelle by the deceased horse, mentally cursing himself for not hitching her.
The path Ashley was taking was narrow and difficult to hike. He had to climb cliffs and drop down ledges. His abdomen ached, knees creaked, but the pain didn't show on his face. He kept his eyes stern, but if someone were to look even an inch closer, they would be able to see the ring of tears that coated his green eyes.
John continued to yell, his voice getting closer and closer with each step Ashley took. He approached a thin opening between two rock walls, walking through it. For a moment, he stood there. The wind didn't reach the place. It was still cold, but the wind didnât hit his face like a train. The feeling of his scars releasing some tension made his eyes flutter close, and his brows slant. The knots in his knees began to loosen, and the pain in his stomach became gentler.
âHelp!â He sucked in a breath, the cold air filling his lungs as his eyes shot open. The jiggle of his spurs echoed in the windless space as he continued to track through the thick snow.
âMarston!â Ashley yelled back, âJohn, whereâre you at, boy?!â He walked around aimlessly, trying to find the direction John was in.
John shouted, and Ashley quickly made his way toward the sound. He approached a ledge, where he could hear faint huffing. âJohnâŠâ he sighed with relief. The man looked up, and Ashley grimaced at the sight.
His face was bloodied and slashed. The crimson-red liquid was smudged across his face, and the gashes had his hair clinging to it with his thick blood. His left eye looked irritated and clouded over. His frosted-over hair held small patches of snow. How long had he been out here, practically freezing to death?
âIâŠâ He sighed, âI ain't no boy.â
Ashley huffed out a chuckle. âLook at âchu, youâre a damn fool.â he hopped down the ledge, landing next to John. âWeâre gonna have matching scars now, ainât we?â Ashleyâs attempts at lightening the situation ceased as John groaned in pain and annoyance.
Ashley's lips tightened into a thin line, and he began to help John up the ledge. The man hissed through his teeth, his hands pushing himself onto the ledge as Ashley held his legs. Once John was sitting comfortably in the snow, Ashley climbed back up and stood behind him. He hooked his arms under his armpits, pulling himself to his feet. He looped John's arm around his neck, supporting his weight as they walked.
âCanât take the same way I did.â Ashley mumbled, âWeâre gonna have to take the longer route.â John sighed deeply, letting his head hang low with a frown on his face.
The two men trailed back, reaching Noelle after twenty grueling minutes. Every now and then, Ashley had to slow down and focus on John's chest. Looking for that up and down movement. Making sure he was alive. Making sure he didnât need to bring Abigail the shell of her lover.
âUp you go.â Ashley hoisted John onto the butt of Noelle before saddling her himself. John put his hands on Ashley's hips, his head lulling to the side of his shoulder as he kicked Noelle into a slow canter.
Ashley followed the hoof prints in the snow. His teeth still picked at his lip. He couldnât see the rise and fall of John's chest from here. He just had to trust that John had the will to keep breathing. Ashley shook his head at himself. No, he canât think that. He knew John would live.
Suddenly, a howl cut through the air. The howl started as a lone, almost mournful with an uneducated ear until it was drawn into a layer of howls. The sound made Ashley's spine shiver, and a slight weight lifted from his shoulders as he felt John tense up against him, but it only confirmed the suspicion that wolves had torn him apart.
Ashley looked up, his eyes widening as a pack of wolves stood at the edge of the cliff. Their full moon eyes pierced into his before they turned around. Quickly, Ashley slapped the reins and kicked his spurs into Noelle's side. She neighed and galloped through the snow.
The loud cries and growls behind them overwhelmed the wind that sang in Ashley's ears. âGo, go!â He yelled at the top of his lungs, his hand held on tightly to the reins while the other grabbed the shotgun that hung at Noelle's side. He clenched his teeth and blindly fired behind them.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The thrill didnât feel as good now with not only John's life in his hands, but Noelle's too. It felt like an unbearable weight, heavy and yet so fragile. The fear of failure pressed down on him even more than the wolves behind them.
His eyes focused on one wolf. He lined up the shot, and with a trembling hand, he pulled the trigger. A wolf cried out, collapsing into the snow. Ashley shot another. Then another, and another. It felt like they just kept on coming, which riddled Ashley with crippling anxiety. He was close to running out of bullets. He cursed himself for missing so many shots.
John looked sickly. The only way Ashley knew the man wasn't dead was his tight grip on his hips. Ashley couldnât keep shooting these damned wolves. âFuck!â Ashley yelled, holstering the shotgun. His shaking hands gripped Noelle's reins, cracking them as if Noelle could get any faster.
As the barks and cries quietened, Ashley's pounding heart began to slow, and the sound of his pulse in his ears ceased. Before he could catch his breath, Noelle suddenly screamed, her head thrashing. She skirted to a stop, causing both men to tense and gasp, bracing themselves from falling off the horse. Ashley breathed heavily, looking up at what frightened Noelle.
A lone, majestic creature stood unmoving even when the wind blew through its pure cotton-white fur. Its icy eyes bored into Ashley's forest green ones. The canine didn't snarl or lower its head in warning. It towered over them, almost mysteriously proud.
Ashley's fingers itched for the shotgun, but something within him hesitated. The wolf wasnât afraid. Wasn't even wary. It simply watched. Something about it felt⊠wrong. Not in its form - It was perfect, untouched, not a scratch on its body. It made no sound, no breath, no growl. It only stared, as if it knew him.
Ashley swallowed, his throat dry.
Then, as if it had decided on something, it turned around. No rush or hesitation. Just a slow, deliberate walk. Leaving nothing but a trail in the snow.
âWhat's wrong?â groaned John, his head lifting from Ashley's shoulder.
âNothing,â Ashley cleared his throat, his sweaty hand pulling Noelle straight. âNoelle just got spooked.â
Slowly, the man regained his composure and rode down the mountain. As they descended, the wind grew softer, the snow lowered, and Ashley's tingling scars became bearable. John, luckily, was still alive and clinging to Ashleyâs hips.
At times, Ashley zoned out throughout the ride. His mind wandered, but all thoughts went back to that mysterious wolf. It simply stared. It didn't move in on them despite their vulnerable state and the way it just left. No cold, starving wolf would pass that opportunity, so why did this one?
Ashley shook his thoughts away as the sight of shacks and cabins came into view. His chest bubbled with some sort of anxiety. His teeth returned to his bottom lip as Charles noticed him. The sense of worry didnât leave, even when Charles yelled for help, and the men and women stumbled out of their shacks.
âHelp him down'n be careful with his leg,â Ashley warned as Bill and Javier helped the bloodied man off of Noelle.
Ashley shakily sighed, his fatigued body finally void of adrenaline. He swung his legs over and slid off Noelle. His knees almost gave out under him, but the tense knots made his legs rigid. âGood job, son,â Hosea patted his shoulder.
Ashley shook his head. âShouldâve seen me out there, âsea! I was as lost as a baby deer lookinâ for its momma. Pure luck⊠that's what this was.â
Hosea hummed, âWell⊠dumb luck is better than none.â He said softly, his kind eyes comforting Ashley like no others could before he walked away, the snow crunching under his boots.
Ashley stood there for a moment, just letting everything sink in. Exhaustion slowly began to fall over his eyes. Iron weights hung from his eyelids, and his hand grabbed Noelle's reins. His feet plowed through the thick snow, his steel tips dragging into the moist dirt beneath as he led Noelle beneath an overhead.
Hay covered the mud, creating a dry bedding for the two. Noelle nickered, her hooves clamping when Ashley pulled her reins down a bit. Her front legs bent at the knee, kneeling onto the ground before the rest of her body followed, plopping onto the floor with a loud âthud.â Ashley mumbled a praise before sitting down himself. His shoulders slumped, and the knot in his knees loosened. His back lay up against Noelle, her body warmth comforting Ashley like a thick blanket.
Ashleyâd take this over sleeping in the house with all the other men. A bed could never give him the same contentment that Noelleâs soft fur can. This? This was his mind, body, and soul. Where he could put down the weights on his shoulders and rest, even just for a moment. Where his mind could settle down. Even the most grueling thoughts can fade away into a peaceful slumber.
everyone in the notes we are all holding hands. everyone who hasnt worked on a wip in weeks or months or years, its okay. we are going slow but we are going
Guys, i haven't disappeared yet!! I promise i am currently working on chapter 4 (i have only JUST started), but I will say this again. Please do not expect it to come out anytime soon.
Writing is something that I will admit that I do not completely enjoy. It's stressful, worrying, and hard for me because I am always worried that you guys may not like it. I constantly edit and delete a bunch of my writing in fear it may not be good enough. (Which is what every writer says NOT to do or worry about)
But at the same time, I do enjoy it in some ways. I get to bring my ideas to life and give my characters their own story. But it's all worth it when I am able to bring joy to my readers with my work.
So again, chapter 4 has taken a while and will continue to take more time. Please be patient, I will provide you with more work soon! (I have a Dunes animation I'm working on :))
