The Misadventures of Kathy and Appalachia
The Meeting
A/N - So- this has been up on Ao3 for a hot minute, I just forgot to post it here lol. Chapter 2 will be up shortly!
Warning: Appalachia is not a normal horse, hints at religious trauma, hints at Homophobic ideas, blood, mentions of violence
Ao3 - Next
5 miles outside of Agua Caliente, Arizona - 1895
Blood still dripped from the side of her head, vision still swimming and chest heaving. She spat blood from her mouth, torn hands gripping onto the material of her soiled skirt. Tears welled in her eyes, forcing them shut.
What am I going to do- they’ll kill me if I stay here.
The trees around her went quiet. The desert animals that had been chattering so loudly mere seconds ago had come to a screeching halt. The air seemed to still, ice in the air thick enough that not even a bullet could shatter it.
Hands slick with blood shakily reached for the knife she had dropped in her attempt to catch her breath. She brushed her hair away from her ear in an attempt to listen better.
The soft thump of a horse’s hooves registered in her brain. It was a slow gait, sounding as if it was walking calmly towards her.
Was it her father? No, they only owned a sweet old Shire who walked with a limp. The gait from this horse was smooth and light. Could it be a bounty hunter? Possibly, but there hadn’t been any in town when she cracked that book over her mother’s head. Perhaps the Sheriff had come back into town a week early-
The horse finally breached her line of sight, the moonlight gleaming almost dangerously across the bay horse. The young woman blinked, taking in the horse’s appearance. Standing at approximately fifteen hands tall, was a darkly colored mare. Its’ face stood bare and white with dark eyes staring at her from the darkness.
Fear ran through her, paralyzing her. This looked like a horse, stood like a horse, walked like a horse yet everything screamed that it was not.
The dark mare came to a slow stop in front of her, lowering its head to stare into the young woman’s eyes. Her mind screamed at her to get away, yet there was no malice in the horse’s gaze. All she saw was an almost child-like curiosity.
Finally, she felt like she could move her limbs again. She took in a shuddering breath, dropping the knife once more. Her eyes began to tear up once more, going to the ground as her knees buckled.
The desert night began to breathe and speak once more.
“...Can you help me? I-I fear I made a mistake that I can’t go back from.”
She didn’t know what compelled her to speak to the horse, she knew that it couldn’t respond back. There was a small part of her mind that thought it could, though.
There were no words that came from the horse, just a blow of air into the woman’s face. It felt like acceptance, like a yes, I will help you.
“Thank you.”
No noise left the odd horse, just butting its muzzle against her cheek. A feeling of a question niggling at her mind. Who are you.
“... My name is W-... Kathy.”
Appalachia.
Kathy stayed silent for a moment, letting the odd thought pass. The horse gave her the feeling that her Aunt’s stories of Appalachian horrors that she had witnessed in her youth, maybe it was just her mind filling in the blanks. Perhaps it was God, but she knew that he had never been with her.
Kathy slowly raised her hands up to rest on the horse’s poll, fingers interlocking. The horse, who she has now deemed to call Appalachia, began to raise its head. The movement pulled her to her feet, holding its head high until Kathy was able to stand with shaky confidence. Her bloodied hand moves between Appalachia’s ears to rest on its forelock, her other reaching down to pick up the knife she had dropped once again.
“I-... we need to get out of here before they find me.”
Who.
Kathy stared into the dark eyes staring at her with human interest.
“... the town.”
Why.
“I have sinned against God and they hate me for it.”
There was an angry snort, ears pinned back. The stomp of a hoof, toss of the head dislodging Kathy’s hand.
Fools.
She stared at the horse, tamping down the fear that threatened to rise again. Before she could open her mouth again, Appalachia turned away from her. Its side turned towards her, sidestepping closer. Kathy could only guess it wanted her on its back.
Hands resting on its barrel before sliding up and hoisting herself onto its back. Situating herself on the horse’s back, leg on either side and stiff skirt riding up to her knees. There was no need to squeeze her knees to signal the horse to turn and move, no reason to tap her heels into its barrel. There was no reason to signal Appalachia to do anything, for the horse was already moving. Kathy merely held onto its mane with her offhand and her knife in the other. Her eyes began to close, the adrenaline from fleeing bleeding into exhaustion.
Kathy lost consciousness seconds later.
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