Colter

Winter.

Little red flowers bloomed in the snow. I kicked some powder over the trail holding tighter to my side and continued onward. They still would see my tracks but with the heavy flakes of snow floating down I imagine it wouldn't be for long.

Daylight waned quickly in the mountains. By the time I reached a suitable shelter only blood orange fingers of light overreached the mountain peaks. Maybe an hour of good light left... Best move quick. I took over the sturdiest looking building and set up in the main room. It was barren but the windows were all intact and it had locked doors. A fireplace, painted in soot, stood cold in the middle of the back wall.

This was an old place for sure.

One of the buildings had some dry firewood thankfully. It took several trips to get a nights worth to my camp given my injuries. Warmth spread across the bandage. Fuck, already needed to be redressed.

The wind had picked up, stinging my face and eyes; it was getting cold. I looked to the north where that biting chill descend from and frowned at the rapidly bruising sky. My feet had gone numb- rather my entire body it seemed. Froze to the Bone.

Better get that hearth burning quick.

Fire danced to life after a few tries. The stones in the fireplace groaned in protest as the flames licked them. Kindeling was devoured and the fire grew stronger. Confident that it would stay lit I scrounged the rest of the building for anything useful.

There wasn't much in the way of food. Unfortunate. My bag was feeling mighty light... I'll have to ration it. Maybe go hunting. If my horse hadn't been killed it wouldn't have been so bad. But I had found some pots. Could heat some water to clean this wound properly.

Outside the darkness grew to engulf the world, temperatures sinking. I wouldn't be hunting anytime soon. Like an dutiful solider keeping lookout, I stoked my defenses, focusing on keeping my island of warmth alive.

Water boiled. A needle heated red and threaded. I bit my glove as the needle sunk into flesh. My snarls were lost in the wind.

The storm came in fast and hard. The weathered building groaned against the brutal winds, chill pressing further in. My fire choked and sputtered in the hearth; firewood was running low too.

"Damn..." I stared down at the small flame praying it'd stay alive with less for a bit longer. It wasn't much but it bit back the chill's fingers just enough to be tolerable. "If I can't die then you can't."

Only good thing about the storm was my tracks would be covered and it would give me some time to get ahead. They would follow, they always did, but it'd make me feel more comfortable. At least they couldn't follow me now. They wouldn't risk their lives in this weather, not for me.

The knock on the door startled me. Who the hell would be out there? For a moment I was utterly sure it was a wendeigo, what other creature would be romping about in this? This camp was devoid of food. Starvation most definitely flurished here... especially with this weather. Fresh blood lingered in the air. It was practically invited.

It stood just outside the door, waiting, head bowed with eyes like coals and teeth slathered in saliva. Taunt skin over too sharp bones, ice clinging to it's antlers... My heart raced. I couldn't fight a wendeigo. It would take me and devour my very marrow-

I squashed those ridiculous thoughts before they really started going wild. Rifle in hand I continued to reassure myself (it's just a legend). It was a person out there, a crazy one at that. Flesh and blood, with a heart that once shot ended their life.

The knock came once more. I went to the frosted window and only saw an outline and a lantern. Just one, I could deal with one. I waited in front of the door, gun ready. Let him come to me.

Didn't wait long before the person stepped in tentatively.

"Hello?" Weird to announce his presence? Whatever.

I cocked the gun and he froze in the doorway- smart fella.

"I don't mean to intrude but I thought it were empty." He stepped out from behind the door with both hands up. By the amount of snow and frost hanging on his blue coat I figured he must've been out there a while.

"Nope. Whatcha want?" I knew the answer to that already and I was wary. He didn't make any moves, however.

"I'm looking for a place for me and my friends to wait out this storm." He jerked his head back towards the vanishing white. "we got a caravan with women and children, and a few injured fellas not too far off from here."

I didn't move, weighting my options. If I said fuck off then I'm sure he'd go get his gang and they'd force me out into the cold for telling them to fuck off. If I let them stay I still run the same risk, but I could possibly get an easier ride out of here. Not to mention safety in numbers. If my pursuers decided to brave the weather than I'd have a better chance.

"Who are you guys?"

"Just some folks who got stuck in the storm."

I snorted. "Bullshit, there's nothing up here and you'd be batshit crazy to risk continuing on in a storm like this."

A bit of a smirk played on his lips. "Well then, I reckon yer up here for the same reason then huh?"

"well its safe here for now, bring them...no funny business." I deflected, still hugging the trigger just in case.

"Miss this ain't the weather for that."

"No I guess it ain't, Mr...?"

"Morgan, Arthur Morgan."

I only nodded and watched him leave.

His group was pretty big, and it included a youngin as he had said before. The leader, a dapper man going by the name of Dutch had a way with words; I stayed to to the edge of the group as he gave a heartfelt speech. He then thanked me for the shelter. I just nodded, wrapping my coat a bit tighter around myself.

He and Arthur went out to find someone else, wasn't sure who. I retired to one of the small rooms in the back of the building. It had a bed surprisingly, though it was in rough shape. However with my bedroll in top it wasn't too bad. A flame danced in an oil lamp shifting shadows on the walls. I stared at the worn pages of a book for some time, failing terribly at reading.

Apprehension coiled in my gut, I wasn't sure about these people... A knock stopped my thoughts.

" Miss ?" Arthur's head peeked through the door.

"Yeah?"

Seemingly taking that as an invite he stepped in. "It was kind of you to share what you had and I would like to thank you for it."

Unsure of his angle I only inclined my head. There was a beat of silence. Neither of us broke eye contact.

"I ain't sure who yer running from, but if you want to you can run with us. Dutch already said he'd be happy to have another... And well, if you decide your place ain't with us then you can be on your way." He shrugged, crossing his arms. "Your choice."

I stared at him for a long moment. Having some people to watch my ass would be nice... Need to think about that. "I might take you up on that offer."

"Glad to hear it miss- I don't think I caught your name.."

"I didn't give it, but it's Adeline Schook."

"It's a pleasure Adeline."

It had been about four days now with these people and they weren't too bad. But maybe that was the fever talking. I left the hut where everyone gathered, where the man Arthur and the Mexican fella had saved off the mountain was staying. One of their own. Thankfully the storm has passed just in time for them to get him.

I went back to my room, looking around blankly for a moment. I was so tired; just that little walk took it right out of me. Out of breathe.

Sitting down on the bed caused a twinge in my tender side. I gasped a little and cradled it. That damn bounty Hunter and his fucking aim- I can't believe he actually shot me through all them damn trees, while I was moving none the less! Damn my rotten luck. Gingerly I pulled back my shirt and the yellowing bandage, swearing at the mad red wound looking back at me. Damn... infection.

Maybe if I clean it good tonight it'd be ok by tomorrow... I had seen some whiskey here somewhere, I'd boil up more water. Redress it back here.

I was a bloody mess by the time I was done cleaning it. Yellowish-red blood spattered the floor, still steaming against the chill. It was absolutely aflame. I bit harder on the glove and forced whiskey on it, my vision went white and in my mind's eye my side was being burned away. I sat for a moment, just breathing, getting a hold of the pain. I can do this. I did it before.

The needle, red by candle flame, shook in my hands and I focused hard to make the twin apparition before me one. That wasn't good. But if I didn't do it now then I'd lose more blood than I could stand. It went easily the first way and I couldn't help the string of curses. My vision swam. My stomach flipped. Fuck why was this harder than before?

Just one more. Then I can sleep.

And I did just that. Much like the whiskey I forced myself to push the needle back through. This time I spat the glove entirely along with some bile. Harsh bursts of air came from my nose as I worked to avoid screaming.

"Fuck- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck..."

Were those footsteps or my heart beat? I got my answer when the door opened, Arthur replacing where it was. He dropped down and helped me back up to a sitting position. With an apology he tugged the needle the rest of the way out of my side.

"Adeline? What happened?"

What's - it look like.." I frowned and closed my eyes. They knew now... Great.

"This is real infected... You need some medicine and doctoring."

His eyes clouded for a moment.

"I'm gonna go get someone, and I'm gonna put you on the bed, ok?"

Gentle as ever he hooked me up in his arms and placed me on my bedroll. The room began to spin and I didn't quite hear everything he was saying. Something about getting Abigail and he'd be back. And don't move. If I wasnt in so much pain I would've laughed. Don't move? Where was I going to go?

Darkness swirled at the edge of my eyes. Welcoming. Quite. Painless. I let myself get pulled in. So tired.

I woke up overly warm and shivering. Shit. The ceiling turned slowly above me and I closed my eyes- felt like puking my guts out. Focus on sound. Fire crackled off a ways, the building groaned against an occasional bluster of wind. Footsteps, light murmers. A gamy aroma lofted slightly, turning my stomach more. Pain was a steady companion, sinking it's teeth into my side. Good, meant I was alive.

I blinked, squinting upwards then side to side, confirming that I wasn't alone. Arthur and a girl who's name left me sat close, most likely to enjoy the fire that had probably been stoked up for me in the hearth. I was in the same building. My breathe didn't stab me nearly as much.

My stomach continued to turn. Had to get up. But I was stopped by the silence of the conversation and the scrapping of chairs across the floor.

"Lay yerself right back down Missy. You ain't in any shape to be moving." Despite the winter frost, which seemed to zap the strength of anything living, the woman's voice was quite forceful. She was beside me the next second laying me back down firm but gently. "You got an infection and a fever. You need rest."

Her hand was cool to my forehead and cheek. Through the haze I saw my mom, her face pinched in worry as she tested my fever. But that couldn't be her because she was buried.

"Still warm..." She frowned, her dark eyes regarded me critically. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No." I would've laughed if I had the ability. I felt like shit.

"It's only been a day... You don't expect things to get better do you Abigail?" Arthur had gravitated over to sit in a chair not far off. He took a dart, almost lit it but tucked it in his breast pocket instead.

"No... but now she's awake I can give her some medicine."

Things were far off now. Twilight curled around me, dark and quiet. Something cold touched my lips and the health cures bitter taste stung my throat. Water came next. The quiet soon took over, muffling any sounds- as if I were under water. Then nothing.

Thank you ma.

Time went by in a blur of colors, murmured voices and faces I didn't know. Except for one that seemed familiar. Arthur I believe. I vaguely was aware of being moved occasionally. Sharp pains in my side.

Someone fed me. Someone kept me warm. Or tried rather, I couldn't seem to shake the chill.

Maybe I was still out in the woods, all this was a fever dream- the camp, the people. That would explain why my very bones shook from cold; Nature was burying me lazily in a tomb of snow. Didn't stop some damn wolf from chewing my side open, however. Moonish eyes examined me closely as it feasted. Dark, froze-over lakes.

I didn't have the energy to fight anymore... I'll see you soon.

About 3 days had passed since I finally regained my awareness, and I was thankful none of this was a simple hallucination. Apparently I had been in and out of consciousness for a couple of days; it seemed like weeks.

I could finally keep my dinner down too. I didn't want to be wasting food. Arthur usually helped me with things if Abigail or Miss Grimshaw weren't available. I thought that a bit strange. When confronted about why this was (there was probably more important things for him to do) the outlaw chuckled dryly:

"It keeps me from freezing out in the snow."

Welp I couldn't blame him. Besides I wouldn't complain, the man was a good conversationalist with a quick wit and a sarcastic drawl. Often spent time telling stories, embellishing them to the point where we began calling each other out for bullshit tales.

It was the first time in a long time I enjoyed anyone's company.

It was about a week later when I figured out he had been sleeping in the main area on the floor. Poor guy did quite a bit of work around the place and wasnt able to sleep much out there since it was a main meeting room. And he had helped me quite a bit while I was on the mends. So that night when everyone was getting into bed I approached him, nodded to my room.

"You can come sleep in my room. So ya don't keep getting woke up." He quirked an eyebrow at me and I hastnened to clear it up. "You'll be on the floor of course. But there's be a bit more privacy."

"I appreciate that Adeline."

"Well least I could do for you mother Henning me all week."

That got a smirk out of him. I was a good judge of character and that man had a good heart in him. I trusted him enough not to try anything (he already has had plenty of chances). The women of the group spoke highly of him as well so that eased my anxiety.

He had no qualms of being on the floor, not after a extra bedroll was laid down to bite the floorboards chill. He actually seemed more relaxed.

"I really appreciate this miss. I swear if I got woke up by Micah ranting one more time I would've drown him in the river."

"He's a bit loud, I'll agree." I responded tentatively, unsure of the underlying communication channels of this gang. Micah seemed like a downright asshole and I would like to avoid stirring the pot. At least until I got off this damn mountain.

All was quiet, nothing but the crackeling fire and wind seemed to be alive. Even after the worst of the infection was done with I was still exhausted all the time. With heavy eyelids I drifted off to sleep easily.

Then stared down at Arthur, fighting the urge to either smack him or smother him with the pillow. Instead I pulled it tightly over my head, frowning. Of course he fucking snores.