a/n: i wasn’t gonna make this a series originally but i think i have to at this point cause im at 7k words and im not even close to being done. and i thought who actually is gonna read this if its like one part with 20k words hahaha. but anyway i love this idea and the dynamics i created i just hope it doesn’t flop but oh well you can’t win every time. not my usual content ik but hey free will is amazing. anyway the title is based off a song that inspired this fic i recommend listening to it it’s amazing. i guess that’s all i got if you wanna be tagged in the next part lmk i can do my best
characters: john marston x teen!reader x arthur morgan (PLEASEE FOR MY SANITY THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC ITS STRICTLY PLATONIC… just you’ll find out okay it’s cute!!)
type: fluff!! also spoiler free!!
warnings: mild swearing and mild blood but that’s it
synopsis: you’re from the city and go out of town with your brother for a business trip, little do you know something’s waiting for you and somehow you find yourself separated from him and now in the care of two men who have agreed to help you get to saint denis to find your brother
You’re not really sure how you got here. Well, maybe that’s a lie. Technically you got here via train. A lot of them.
A few days ago you were living your best life in New York with your brother, but now the city was nowhere in sight. Unfortunately, your parents died a few years ago when you were eleven, leaving you with your older brother who was twenty one at the time.
It’s not as if he minded, or thought you a burden. In fact the two of you were very close–even before your parents passed. And it’s not as if they left you with nothing. No, if anything it was the complete opposite–they left you with more than you could ever imagine.
Though, no matter how much you pestered your brother, he’d never give you an exact amount. All you knew was that the two of you were going to be just fine financially.
However, two soon became three when your brother married the girl he’d been in love with for years when you were thirteen. You too, of course, love her. She was the complete opposite of your brother, and you think that’s why they fit so well together.
While he was cold and cruel with a rough exterior, she was nothing but golden hair and smiles as far as the eye could see. In a way they balanced each other–light and dark, push and pull, sun and moon.
You were young at the time, not naive, you knew how your parents built their wealth. Your family had been wealthy for generations–mostly due to your family’s involvement as New York's oldest and most feared crime syndicate.
Obviously, you grew up immensely protected and well cared for. Your parents may not have been the best people out there, but they did what they had to to make sure you had everything you needed. In their favor, they had a very healthy work-life balance.
That also meant you learned how to shoot a gun by the time you could stand the recoil, and play cards even younger.
Your father used to say that a young woman such as yourself should always know how to hold her own, and not depend on anyone for safety. He prepared you for all the worst possible case scenarios: how to escape rope bindings with nothing but your own hands, shooting a moving target head on every time, and basic hand to hand combat should you find yourself without a weapon.
However, he never prepared you for the situation you currently found yourself in.
Your brother had gotten an urgent business letter, requesting his presence out of state–a place called Saint Denis. You’d never been outside of New York, and you all but begged your brother to let you accompany him.
Eventually, after a lot of pestering, and some encouragement from his wife, he reluctantly agreed. However, your sister-in-law would not be coming on the journey either. She claimed she had no desire to sit in on his boring meetings and listen to him yell at people while they quivered in fear.
That and she was pregnant.
Ever since they found out your brother’s naturally protective demeanor increased tenfold. She was put under constant surveillance, and he almost canceled this trip due to her condition.
Ever the voice of reason, she assured him she would be fine, and that some sibling bonding would be much needed between you. After careful consideration and a lot of compromise, he agreed.
But after what happened on the journey, you’re not sure he’ll let you outside of New York any time soon.
It’s not like it was your fault–it was bad timing.
After two long and boring train rides, your brother informed you that you would only need to switch trains once more before you reached your destination. Your face practically lit up at his words, the energy slowly returning to your body.
Your brother laughed at your childish antics, the two of you making the most out of your so far boring trip.
Once your train rolled to a stop at some random station, you were the first one off the train, desperate to stretch your legs a little.
“Don’t go far, please!” Your brother called out as you skipped onto the surprisingly busy platform.
You turned to assure him you were fine, when you bumped into a stranger's chest.
“Apologies,” you jumped back quickly, dusting off your simple shirt. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
Looking up, you saw that the chest belonged to a gnarly, strong, black haired man with a scraggly beard. His beady eyes peered down at you, and you felt yourself shrink slightly under his gaze.
A lot of people back in New York didn’t love when children made mistakes, and though you didn’t think of yourself as quite so young, others would beg to differ.
He seemed to fall in that category.
“Well you ain’t from ‘round here now are you?” The man sniffed, a thick Irish accent present within his words.
“Uh,” you laughed awkwardly, backing away slowly. You looked around fervently for your brother, but it seems you wandered farther than you initially thought. He was nowhere in sight.
The man cocked his head, looking you up and down as if he recognized you.
“You look familiar,” he drawled.
“Oh, that–that can’t be.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m from New York City.”
Realization snapped in the man's eyes.
“Aye, I knew I recognized you.” The man barked out a laugh. “Got wind of your brother’s little visit to our end of Hell.”
Your heartbeat sped up within your chest as it started to click for you as well.
The accent, dark hair, and the brand on his pistol. He was an O’Driscoll. A gang you were familiar with, but not by much. They weren’t based out of New York, but boy did they stir up trouble when they visited.
Whenever there was a report of an O’Driscoll in town, your brother spent a majority of his time putting out fires and bullets in their heads. They had even started targeting some of your businesses in retaliation.
Your brother assured you it was nothing for you to worry about, and that he could deal with a couple of cowboys too far from home, but you were in their territory now.
“Care to point me in the direction of him?” The man lunged forward, seizing your wrist in a bone crushing grip.
You flinched, the fear imminent in your eyes. It was your unarmed teenage body against a grown man with arms at his disposal.
But as always, you acted quickly. You may be smaller, and younger than him, but that just meant you were all the more quicker.
You quickly twisted your wrist in a circle, successfully shaking the man’s grip as you dodged his other attempt to make a grab for you. Ducking under his arms, you wove through the sea of people who didn’t so much as stop twice at the sight of a grown man chasing a young girl.
“Joey!” you called, but you didn’t have time to look around for your brother with the O’Driscoll hot on your tail.
There was no response from him, and you were running out of places to run. Luckily, the platform was in the middle of a forest. You decided that losing him in the trees would be your best bet.
Leaping off the platform, grateful you decided to wear a pair of trousers, a button up and a vest to fit the local attire–you sprinted for the trees. The heavy footsteps and constant yelling behind you told you the man was still chasing you.
“Get back here you little shit!” He yelled after you.
Like that’s going to happen, you internally rolled your eyes.
Pumping your legs as fast as they could go, you wove in between the maze of trees, the nightfall surrounding you making it all the more easy to hide.
Checking briefly over your shoulder, you saw you had put a good amount of distance between the two of you. Even though he had a gun, the O’Driscoll clearly needed you alive for some reason, meaning he wouldn’t dare shoot you.
Making a split second decision, you picked up a rock, as well as a handful of dust, and threw it over your shoulder, straight at the O’Driscoll’s face.
You heard a cry of outrage come from behind you. Quickly, you located the sturdiest tree and scaled it as swiftly as you could.
You made it decently to the top, ignoring the splinters in your palms and blood across your cheek where a few tree branches had cut you.
Huddling against the trunk of the tree on a branch that barely supported you, you attempted to catch your breath as slowly and quietly as you could.
Below you, the O’Driscoll was swearing profusely, furiously rubbing at his eyes. You covered your mouth with your hand, desperate to quiet your breaths as he stood.
The O’Driscoll looked behind every tree within a few feet around you, but luckily he didn’t think to look up.
Not very bright these O’Driscoll’s.
With one last dramatic curse, and a swift kick to a nearby tree, he stomped off back towards the train station that was no longer in sight, even from your position in the tree.
You drew in a shaky breath, leaning your head against the rough bark of the tree. Your limbs were wobbly, and your mind was scrambled, but you didn’t move from your position. To do so would be a stupid move.
You weren’t sure how many of them were at that train station, or how they knew you guys would be there, but they did. You just hoped they didn’t get your brother.
No, they wouldn’t. Joey was much too smart for them.
It took a while for you to calm yourself down, but once you did, your mind and body both felt tired. You didn’t entirely trust yourself to sleep in a tree and not fall to your death, but you were so exhausted you didn’t care at that point.
Your eyelids felt heavier and heavier until darkness covered your vision. However, your rest was very short lived. Whether it was the sun, or the anxiety in your chest, it felt as though you had just closed your eyes when they flew open again.
Dawn painted the sky, and your muscles were achy from spending all night up in a tree. Stretching as best you could in the awkward position, you started your careful descent down the tree.
Once you were back safely on the ground, you quickly took off in the opposite direction of the train station. Going back was out of the question–there were most likely more O’Driscoll’s lurking around and you’d prefer if they didn’t catch you.
So here you were. Miles away from New York, in the middle of buttfuck hillbilly nowhere, completely alone. Not ideal.
Wrapping your arms around your stomach as it started to growl, you promptly ignored the hunger beginning to stab at your gut. If you could just find a source of water, the odds are you’d be able to follow it to a town of some kind where you could get help.
However, after hours and hours of wandering, your feet aching in your boots, all you had come across so far was a few rattlesnakes, and a lot of deer. The deer didn’t stick around long after catching sight of you.
As the sun started to dip, so did the temperature. You didn’t expect it to get as chilly as it did. You mostly likely didn’t notice it last night because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but there was none of that now.
It was just you to keep yourself company and warmth. As the sun set lower and lower over the mountains, you couldn’t help but feel extremely out of your comfort zone.
You had been taught a lot of survival skills, but none of them involved making a fire, or a camp in general. You lived in New York for God’s sake, why would you have had to know how to start a fire?
You dragged your feet behind you until you physically couldn’t stand it anymore. Too tired to climb another tree, you instead made yourself comfortable curled up against the trunk of a tree.
Shivering, you attempted to make yourself as small as possible to conserve body heat, but it might as well have been useless. The cold seeped through your clothes and to your bones. Nothing but a fire would thaw you now.
Tears of frustration sprung at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You already looked like a mess, you didn’t have to make it worse by crying.
Another sleepless night had you waking at the crack of dawn. You didn’t want to get up. In fact, you’d rather do anything but. Walking was tiring, and you didn’t even know where you were going or hoping to find.
Your internal battle was short lived when a snap of a twig near you had you on high alert. Peering through the trees, you met the eyes of a beautiful doe munching on the leaves of a low hanging branch a few feet from you.
“You’re no O’Driscoll,” you attempted to joke, though your voice was hoarse and scratchy from the lack of water.
The doe did nothing but stare blankly back at you before eventually trotting away. Taking that as a sign, you slowly dragged yourself away from the tree trunk and continued your tedious trek.
This day was just as slow as the previous two. Walking, snakes, more walking, deer, but luckily no sign of wolves. You weren’t sure what you would do if you encountered the beasts. Probably take to the nearest tree again.
By the time midday rolled around you were just about ready to start throwing rocks at your surroundings and screaming at the top of your lungs.
That was until you heard voices up ahead. Diving behind the nearest bush, you listened closely. It sounded like two men…but they were arguing.
“I never shoulda listened to your sorry ass!” one of them accused.
“Oh right, so now this is all my fault?” the other shot back.
“Well it sure as hell ain’t mine,” the man with a gruff voice laughed humorlessly. “You asked me for help, remember?”
“I musta forgot,” the other man scoffed, “Arthur Morgan doesn’t make mistakes. Arthur Morgan is perfect in every which way. Arthur Morgan–”
“You shut your mouth, Marston before I go and do it for you!” The gruff man yelled.
Cocking your head curiously, you peered through the leaves of the shrub. Beyond you, in a clearing of grass surrounded by more and more trees, were two men sporting roughly the same attire.
The one on the left had long black hair that extended to his shoulders, and a stubble beard to match. Even from far away, you could see there was something off about the way his facial hair grew in. There were a few spots where the hair didn’t grow at all.
By the way he was standing, and they way they hadn’t stopped bickering, you assumed this man was the one being blamed for something you knew not.
The other man had lighter chestnut brown hair that wasn’t quite as long as his companions. His facial hair was just a touch longer than the other man’s, but his was even in every way. And with the way he was glaring at the other guy you’d think he was trying to set him on fire.
Unbeknownst to you, you had subconsciously been leaning forward to get a better look at their faces that you didn’t notice you had snapped a branch on accident.
Two pistols wiped in your direction immediately.
“Don’t shoot!” You yelped, jumping up quickly from the bush, both hands raised in surrender, praying they wouldn’t shoot you on the spot.
You were mildly impressed that they were able to hear the branch snap over their obnoxious arguing, but they must live life in a state of constant vigilance if they picked it up.
The men’s expressions turned to that of surprise, but they didn’t lower their weapons. They most likely weren’t expecting a sixteen year old kid to be the one spying on them.
To be fair, you had only just gotten there and they were technically in your way.
“Uh, hi there,” you waved pathetically.
The man on the left let out a tired sigh and holstered his pistol. The other man didn’t. He continued to look at you from under the brim of his hat, his dark eyes barely visible.
After a moment the black haired man said, “Ease up, Morgan. It’s only a kid.”
“You remember what we were like when we were kids?” The man–Morgan?–scoffed but reluctantly discarded his weapon anyway.
“That don’t mean everyone is,” the other man reasoned, though neither one of them took their eyes off you.
You were honestly a little flattered they thought of you as that much of a threat.
Morgan hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.
You figured now was as good a time as any to start talking. Plus, you didn’t catch sight of an O’Driscoll tag on their pistols, so at least you were safe for the time being.
“Sorry,” you lowered your hands slowly. “I was just passing through. Thought you might have been the people who were after me. Didn’t mean to be eavesdropping.”
The black haired man scratched at his jaw, and seeing up closer you noticed the places where his hair didn’t grow was due to what looked like scars that were still healing on his face. They were only slightly pink still, but they wouldn’t fade all the way that much was certain. You assumed based on their position that they looked like animal wounds.
“After you?” he repeated. “Who’d be after a kid your age?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Mister.” You shook your head with a tired sigh. “But if they wanted to make me run they succeeded. Barely slept a wink for almost three days, no food or water neither.”
“I can tell,” Morgan observed.
You gave them a tired smile. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll be on my way.” You failed to mention the part where you had no clue where you were going.
You attempted to take a step further in order to pass them but Scarface stopped you.
“Where abouts are you headed then?” he asked.
“Marston,” Morgan warned lowly.
Scarface ignored him, patiently awaiting your answer.
“I’m, uh, not sure,” you admitted sheepishly, scratching your temple. “Saint Denis? I think.”
He nodded in response, looking back at his friend. Morgan shook his head, a firm no in whatever psychic conversation they were having.
“How old are you?” Scarface asked, turning back to you.
Scarface looked back at his friend triumphantly, eyebrows raised.
He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry kid, we’ll take ya where you need to go safe and sound.”
“Jesus Christ,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head and looking up to the sky.
“Oh, it’s no trouble sir,” you reassured him. “I’m sure if you point me in the right direction I’ll be able to figure it out.”
“Not out here you won’t.” Morgan piped up this time. “You ain’t from ‘round here kid, that much is obvious. You won’t make it another day. I’m surprised you managed two on your own.”
You wanted to argue with him but he was right. You were teetering on the edge already as it was.
“Perhaps you’re right,” you laughed awkwardly.
“Sit down, kid,” Scarface led you over to rest your back against a boulder. “Have some water.”
You opened your mouth to tell him you didn’t actually have any water, but a canteen being thrown into your lap had your words dying in your throat.
But it wasn’t Scarface that threw it.
“Thank you….” you trailed off.
“Arthur,” he muttered. “Morgan.”
You nodded, uncapping the top and taking a deep swig, thankful for the liquid returning moisture to your dry throat.
“And you are?” you asked, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, looking at Scarface.
“John Marston,” he smiled kindly.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” you said honestly.
“And what are we supposed to call you?” Arthur asked. “You got a name or something? Or ya lose it on the way over here?”
John shot him an exasperated look.
“No, no, I gotta name,” you said. “It’s (Y/N). Santangelo.”
John rose from his kneeled position beside you immediately like you suddenly grew another head. He and Arthur exchanged looks–Arthur’s more of a what-have-you-done kind of way.
“Of all the strays to pick up of course you chose this one,” Arthur waved a hand in your direction.
John winced, looking back at you with what you can only pinpoint as hope.
“You ain’t happen to be from New York, do ya?” John asked.
“Yeah,” you confirm, a bit confused. “Brooklyn.”
At the men’s extended silence you decide to help them out a little bit.
“Well aware,” Arthur responded.
“Yeah? You ever been?” you asked, eyes alight with hope.
“Nah,” Arthur shook his head. “Heard plenty about your kinda folk though.”
“What about ‘em?” you asked, discarding the now half empty canteen of water off your lap.
“We ain’t stupid, kid,” Arthur chuckled lightly, though it didn’t seem like he found anything amusing. “Everyone and their mama’s have heard ‘bout your kinda people.”
“Oh.” You shrank back against the rock.
A brief flash of fear crosses your face. Did you trust the wrong people? Were they bounty hunters? Maybe they were working for the O’Driscoll’s–helping them find you.
“Knock it off,” John smacked Arthur’s leather clad shoulder lightly. Then to you he said, “Don’t worry kid we ain’t the law. And we certainly ain’t turning you in nowhere.”
“Thanks,” you dragged your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on top of them.
There’s an elongated silence where you could hear John and Arthur speaking quietly to one another. You tried to pretend it wasn't about you, but you’ve caught a few bits and pieces and it most definitely is.
You really hope they’ll let you stay with them–you don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, they seemed like okay men. Better than most in the city you’ve encountered anyway.
“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Arthur said as he and John finished their debate. “There’s a river just up ahead. We’ll go there, make a camp nearby, crash for the night, then get a move on.”
You nod fervently, opening your mouth to assure him you’ll be no trouble, but he held up a hand and continued speaking. “We’ll get you to Saint Denis. Odds are someone’ll be able to help you out there. Deal?”
“Deal.” You shot to your feet, a wide smile playing at your lips. You felt as though you were a street dog who had just found a temporary home. Again, better than being on the actual streets.
“You’re ridin’ with Marston,” Arthur stated.
You shot said man a grateful nod. He returned it just as enthusiastically.
The two men let out a series of sharp whistles, and soon the clop of horse hooves became louder and louder until two beautiful horses stood in front of you.
You let out a noise of awe. You’d never actually ridden a horse before. Back where you're from, they just pull things behind them, you don’t see a lot of people riding them through the streets.
John chuckled a bit at your awestruck expression as he mounted an auburn horse with a light mane and tail to match.
Arthur did the same with his own all black horse.
You approached the side of John’s horse, plotting how you’d go about getting on. It was tall–much taller than you realized.
You could feel the two men giving you weird looks. Well, more like Arthur giving you a weird look, and John trying not to laugh.
“You ain’t ever ridden a horse before?” John asked.
“No,” you admitted, face turning a bit red. “We don’t–I mean the horses are normally used for pulling back home.”
From over John’s shoulder Arthur not so discreetly rolled his eyes.
John however, extended his hand down towards you. “Grab on, I’ll hoist you up. Just put your foot here for balance and swing your other leg over.” John pointed to the place that would offer your foot the best support.
Nodding, you grasped his hand. John pulled you up as if you weighed nothing, it startled you at first. Recovering quickly, you placed your foot on the stirrup before swinging your other leg over the horse’s back until you were sitting comfortably behind John.
“See? Not so hard.” John said, patting his horse’s neck.
“Feel free to grab on if you need some extra balance,” John said over his shoulder before turning back to Arthur. “Ready when you are.”
“About damn time,” Arthur grumbled before kicking his horse forward.
John rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Very dramatic, that man,” he joked before he too urged his own horse forward.
You were going to laugh, but the sudden jerk in movement had you lurching forward and grabbing onto John to prevent yourself from falling off.
“Alright back there?” John asked, taking notice of your death grip on his dark jacket.
“Think so,” you responded as the horse’s pace increased to an even trot.
“Alright,” John drawled. “Just let me know if you’re about to fall off.”
“Will do,” you assured him. “Might be sooner than you think.”
“Ah you’ll be fine,” John assured you. “Plus, I’m the one doin’ all the hard work.”
You peeked over his shoulder to get a grasp on what the ‘hard work’ entailed. From where you were sitting, it looked like all he was doing was holding the reins.
John chuckled when you voiced so, claiming the horse was doing most of the work.
“What are you doin’ all the way out here anyhow?” John asked, tailing closely behind Arthur.
So far, you liked John. He was easy to talk to. You two had been making small conversation for the past few minutes as you rode.
Arthur on the other hand didn’t seem as inclined to join. You weren’t quite sure if it was because of you or John. He didn’t seem to like either of you at the moment.
“Business” was all you revealed.
“Business?” John echoed skeptically. “What kinda business?”
“The kind I’m not supposed to talk about with strangers,” you responded. At this point, your death grip had been reduced to one hand clutching onto his jacket while the other laid on the horse’s back below you.
“Strangers? Come on now, you and I go all the way back to this afternoon.”
You shook your head with a mix between a scoff and a laugh. Your response was cut off when Arthur veered off the road, heading for a river you hadn’t noticed you’d been coming upon.
The horses soon slowed to a stop just off the bank–a secluded spot hidden by trees and fallen logs.
Arthur dismounted his horse, hitching it to a nearby tree. Releasing John’s coat and leaning back to make some room for him, he swung his leg over the side of his horse before offering you a hand.
You weren’t foolish enough to refuse his help.
As enjoyable as your first horse ride was, you couldn’t help but be relieved at both feet being back on the ground. Stretching out your shoulders, John and Arthur got to work quickly setting up camp using the materials on the backs of their horses.
You felt a bit bad watching them do all the heavy lifting while you stood there like a statue.
As John bent down to remove some things from his pack, you tiptoed towards him.
“Give me a job,” you stated.
John tossed a look over his shoulder. “A job?”
“Yeah, I feel a bit useless,” you admitted, moving the sand beneath your feet around with the toe of your boot.
John turned back to his pack with a small laugh. “You’re a kid, don’t worry about it.”
You rolled your eyes at his back, but no matter your pestering, he wouldn’t budge.
Eventually, you gave up on trying to wear him down, and instead tried your luck with the broody man who still hasn’t said as much as a word to you since your departure.
“Hey, Arthur?” You asked, peeking over the side of his horse as he rummaged through his saddlebag.
Arthur turned his head towards you with a blank look on his face. The only thing you got out of him was an eyebrow raise, but not a drastic one.
“Need any help?” You offered lamely.
“From you? No.” He grabbed a hunting knife and turned his back on you.
You didn’t let him go that easy. “Come on. It’ll go faster if I help. Just give me something to do. Something small!”
Arthur let out an annoyed sigh. “Alright, fine. How ‘bout you go get the fire started.” He nodded to where John had already gathered a small pile of wood.
“Okay, fire. I can do that.” You nodded, trying to convince yourself more than him. “Thanks, Arthur.”
He didn’t respond as you turned towards the pile of sticks, completely confused as to how you were supposed to go about this.
Sitting on your knees on the sand that wasn’t at all cushiony, you stared at the sticks. Maybe if you looked hard enough they’d ignite by themselves. Somehow, you doubted that.
Looking around for some type of rocks to bang together, you couldn’t find any that weren’t wet from the river.
You had spent so long looking for a rock that you didn’t realize John and Arthur had already set up a small camp for the three of you.
“Havin’ some trouble?” Arthur coughed as he and John stood behind your seated position in front of the wood.
Glaring at the wood you leaned back on your haunches, frustrated. “There aren’t any rocks anywhere!”
“Good thing that ain’t the only way to start a fire.” John stepped forward, striking a match and tossing it into the pile of dried grass below the wood.
Flames erupted from the dead grass and spread quickly to the wood, thus creating an effective fire.
You turned to glare at the two men sporting shit eating grins. The most emotion you’d gotten from Arthur yet.
“You had matches?” You demanded.
“We got everything,” John said as he heaved himself onto the ground near the fire.
Scowling, you leaned back on the log they had dragged over to your makeshift camp. Arthur sat opposite you and John, one ankle crossed over the other as he struck a match with the heel of his boot and lit a cigarette.
“You gave it a good shot,” John shrugged a shoulder against the log to your right.
Arthur laughed around a cloud of smoke.
Though you had spent today more on horseback than on foot you were still equally as exhausted. The hunger didn’t help with that.
John laughed as your stomach growled, turning to fetch something from his satchel.
“Here, eat this.” He handed you a roll of bread and a piece of meat wrapped in a cloth.
You didn’t object. Snatching the food from his outstretched hand you tore into the bread first, finding it only the slightest bit stale but still completely edible.
Neither of them spoke while you ate. Perhaps they were still mad at each other. It certainly seemed that way.
But it wasn’t your place to intervene. Instead, to keep yourself occupied you hummed a soft tune under your breath, foot tapping along to the rhythm in your head.
Maybe you were just happy, happy that though you were sleeping outside once more, you wouldn’t be freezing your tail off. Luckily, John had a spare tarp for you to lay on for the night.
Laying on your back, you looked up at the night sky. It was much different out here–more stars, less clouds, no smog to hide the beauty of nature you often forgot existed. You found yourself smiling as you drifted off to sleep, the crescent moon mirroring your expression from high above as your blinks grew more elongated by the second.
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