A/N: Anybody who's read any of my stories under my previous pen name "86753090227nb" should know I'm not one to write author notes; however, I just had to clear up a few things. One, my previous account had to be deleted due to technical errors with my email, and I know, I know: "what an original pen name." Thank you. Two, I'll definitely continue the stir I started before my account screwed up. And to those who are actually reading this, I'll be uploading a revised version of my only completed story: "The Small Reprieve and My Journey Through Purgatory."
The moment she laid eyes on him she knew she'd seen him once before - in New York. The only night she'd spent in the city.
At twelve years old Scottie Bell was two hundred miles from her home in Michigan, resting against the cold metal of a cargo train. She'd left home thrice before; once to the Keys, Maine, and finally Galveston. She returned from her fourth escape two weeks later, and that was the only time that her mother laid a hand on her. She was gone for good the next night. Her mama blamed it on her father.
She spent a year on the run, boarding trains that carried her through the Southwest towards Montana. The first year alone was the most difficult; twice she was nearly overcome by men who were bumming on the same car as her, which resulted in narrow escapes by throwing herself off the side and into an uninhabited nowhere, following tracks to the next depot. When she reached Montana she found work on a ranch where she made little money, but was taught the basics of riding in a western saddle, mostly on quarter horses.
In August three ranch hands returned with roped wild horses of the plains; the same horses that evaded humanity for centuries after coming with the Spanish. The horses were a far cry from the boxy quarter horses she learned on, with elegant stature and a nimbleness by nature. She watched with envy when they came in, her idea a seedling planted in her mind. The next two months she was awake by midnight, standing next to a roan mare until four in the morning. By the time she disappeared the mare was her companion, tamed without whips and taking her into the wilderness underneath a moon-lit sky that stretched over empty plains.
The next three years were spent in the company of the mare, for all intents alone in a stolen saddle. She never knew what she was looking for. Only that it wasn't where she was in that particular moment, and that knowledge made her push on through the Dakotas North and South, Wyoming, and the Four Corner States. Every once in awhile she'd stumble upon a middle-of-nowhere town where she'd manage to buy a room for a night with the mare tied to a post out front or resting warily in a barn for her return. She always left the next morning.
Everywhere she went she was a spectacle to be studied; wild hair that had been washed in a creek or brook, or even lake, a couple nights before, and a suntanned face that scrutinized the company around her. This was the case when she found a place in outer New York that would hold the mare for a day while she took a train into the city.
She had boarded the subway after hitch hiking on cargo trains and being deposited at the nearest stop. Once she emerged from the underground she took in lights and traffic, blasts of civilization that made her tremble and want to retreat to a place where the sky expanded in all directions.
A man treated her to a broadway show that let out nearing dark. She'd promised him a restless night in return for the show, and escaped that fate by slipping out before the end and sprinting a few blocks away. It was clear from her outfit that she didn't belong, and had to sidestep eager men once the lights went up and the sky went a velvet black. She wandered into a bar, hoping for a drink, and being stiffly turned away, went back the way she came.
Footsteps became clearer through throngs of pedestrians, quickening as she did and melting into the crowd with a glance over her shoulder. Paranoia hit hard and she knew how the mare felt while traveling through canyons where sharp yips echoed. As she and the rest of humanity passed alleyways, there was a particular alley that she edged towards, quickening her steps and finding that the man tailing her had as well. It was a moment come and gone in a blink that a hand reached out and yanked her from the crowd, pulling her into the shadows.
People passed by, the stalker lost in a sea of strangers, and she was grateful for only a moment before she found herself at the mercy of a greater threat. In the dim light she saw a boy standing in front of her, a shock of silver hair glinting and eyes trained on her no differently than those of a coyote with it's victim.
The boy never spoke to her and left her as soon as she'd recovered enough to register the person glaring at her, but the encounter alone was enough to make her flee from The Empire City.