"Stand up when no one else is willing
Act not in hatred or in spite
Be to this world as a perfect knightE
ven if it means your life"
–The Cruxshadows, "Sophia

A few minutes later, the Doctor was not so enthusiastic. "I always forget how big they are," he muttered, eyeing his assigned horse dubiously.

"You can ride, can't you?" asked Mal, swinging up into the saddle of his own barrel-chested roan.

"Well, yeah," admitted the Doctor. "Well enough to stay in the saddle under most circumstances. It's just, I don't exactly make a habit of horseback riding..."

"Ain't hard," said Jayne, who invariably tried to steer a horse as though it were a hovercraft and sat in the saddle like a bag of potatoes.

"We'll be leavin' them outside the woods," Mal said, turning his horse as it tried to sidle. He hadn't been on a horse in a good long while–he preferred spaceships these days–but some things you just didn't forget. Old Bill's lessons on how to handle a horse was one of them. "I don't want to deal with several tons of panicked horse if we do run into Reavers."

"I dunno," said Jayne thoughtfully. "Maybe the Reavers'd go after the horses first."

Mal shot him a glare, then shifted his weight to start his horse moving, urging it into a slow canter. The Doctor was close behind. Jayne, after a brief argument with his horse (who looked to be more than its share of stubborn) followed.

The first part of the ride passed in relative silence, broken only by occasional bouts of cursing from Jayne whenever his horse decided to try its own navigation. The Doctor offered advice from time to time, which Jayne soundly ignored. Mal ignored both of them, too busy wondering just what the hell he was thinking, agreeing to go hunt maybe-Reavers of unspecified numbers with just him, Jayne, and a skinny weirdo in a pinstriped suit. He wished hard he could have Zoe with him, someone he could trust to have his back no matter what happened. But that was an impossibility, since he wouldn't have her out here in her condition and he wouldn't wish her un-pregnant for the worlds, not when it made her happy like he'd never seen her.

The sky overhead was a hot, cloudless blue, the air around them tongue-parching dry. Little puffs of dust rose from their horses' hooves as they crossed the open grassland between Zeke's station and Helltown. Sweat soon ran freely down the three men's faces, trickling past collars and soaking shirts. Jayne, in his usual t-shirt, was the only one of them remotely comfortable. Mal and the Doctor, in their long coats, were quickly in a state of acute misery. Mal managed to struggle out of his coat without being forced to stop and dismount. The Doctor, whose coat was far longer and far more fitted than Mal's, had no such option. He finally pulled off his necktie and tied it round his head, then unearthed a pair of solar lenses from somewhere inside his coat. The effect was utterly absurd, but this did not seem to bother the Doctor.

They reached Helltown, which lay midway between the station and their destination, a couple of hours past noon. By then, both horses and men were in fair desperate need of water and a rest, so Mal called a halt.

Despite its name, Helltown looked to be a nice little community, especially compared to most of its border moon counterparts. It was a little shabby, with several of the buildings in need of some painting, but it had a general law-abidin' look. A boring, peaceful sort of town.

"It's all very 'Tombstone,' isn't it?" observed the Doctor as they dismounted and led their horses to a water trough. "I mean, I keep expecting Doc Holliday or Wyatt Earp to come round the corner any minute." He turned to find Mal and Jayne staring blankly at him.

"Who're they?" Jayne demanded. "Ain't never heard of 'em."

The Doctor cleared his throat, his ears reddening a little. "Oh...er, nevermind." He looked around. "Seems a bit quiet, though, doesn't it?"

And it was. Mal had just been noticing the extreme lack of folk out and about. Helltown had all the earmarks of a place that ought to be hustlin' and bustlin' this time of day, but wasn't. The few pedestrians they did see were in an almighty hurry, pausing just long enough to stare fearfully at Jayne and Mal (mostly at Jayne) and in mild confusion at the Doctor, still sporting tie-headband and solars. He smiled and waved cheerfully at them, which only sent them scurrying away all the faster.

"Not very friendly," he commented.

"Might be somethin' to do with your headwear," said Mal dryly.

"Mmm." The Doctor turned and raised his eyebrows at Jayne's assault rifle. "Or possibly your big scary guns. Or maybe it's something to do with the monsters in the woods." He looked thoughtful. "Do you know, nearly all sentient beings have a nearly primal terror of deep forests? Every culture, there's legends about the Things in the Woods–and yet everyone loves trees. Isn't that strange?"

"We'll need to find someone, ask directions," Mal said, ignoring the Doctor's babble. He had a feeling if he showed even a smidge of encouragement, the man would blither on all gorram day. "Don't seem likely anyone'll be willing to actually serve as a guide. These folks have the fear of hell in 'em. Or somethin'."

"Not all of us," said an unsteady voice.

Mal turned to see a red-haired kid, not more than fifteen or sixteen years old, all gangly and pimple-faced. He clutched a shotgun like it was a life preserver, and though his eyes were wide and frightened his soft jaw was set in a stubborn line. "Who're you?"

The kid gulped. "'m Ricky," he said. His voice cracked a bit, and he flushed painfully. "I–I'm here to offer y'all some help."

"Hello, Ricky!" said the Doctor, his smile returning tenfold. He reached out to grab the boy's hand and pump it up and down. "I'm the Doctor! I knew a Ricky once–well, a Mickey, actually–long story, nevermind. He was an idiot, but I quite liked him. He saved the world a few times."

Ricky looked faintly stunned, and Mal took pity on him. "And what kind of help would that be, Ricky?"

Ricky pried his hand loose from the Doctor's and edged away from him. "'m the best tracker in town," he said, and for a moment pride overruled the nervous quaver in his voice. It died just as quickly, though. "And–and I'm the one as found the–the bodies. The first ones." He swallowed hard, his face going faintly green at an awful memory. "I want to see these things–whatever they are–s-stopped. I–I ain't afraid to go out there."

"Sure you are," said Mal, but he kept his voice kind. "All of us are. But we're used to fightin'–" he glanced at the Doctor and amended, "–or 'least, Jayne and I are. Seen an awful lot of bad stuff, includin' Reavers." Ricky flinched at the name. Mal continued. "I appreciate the help, and you're real brave even offerin'–but I don't think your mama would thank me if I took you along and got you killed."

Ricky's face hardened, and his eyes welled up. "No, sir, she wouldn't. But my mama was one of them as was taken. And–and I'm the one as found her."

Ah, hell. A cold weight settled into the pit of Mal's stomach. Beside him, Jayne shook his head, looking sorrowful as a puppy.

The Doctor, all traces of manic cheer gone from his face now, reached out to touch the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said gently.

Ricky sniffed, and nodded his thanks. He still looked stubborn. "I want to help," he repeated. "No one else is gonna. And–and I ain't gonna be able to live with myself if I don't do nothin', and more folk die."

Mal gritted his teeth. He had no argument he could muster against a statement like that. "You got a mount, kid?"

Ricky nodded.

Mal had been hoping the answer was no. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "But you do what I say, you follow my orders, dohn ma?" He waited for the boy to agree, then added, "We leave town in twenty minutes. Best say what goodbyes need sayin'."

Jayne scowled as Ricky scurried away. "Mal, I feel all sorts of sorry that kid lost his mama, but he's gonna do nothin' but panic and slow us down."

"You don't know that," said the Doctor. "He might surprise you."

Jayne transferred his glare to the brown-haired man. "I'm thinkin' the same thing about you, Doctor," he snapped. "You ain't a soldier."

"No," agreed the Doctor. "I'm not. But I will promise you I won't freak out or anything."

Jayne snorted, oozing contempt.

"Don't got time to argue," Mal interrupted. "Let's get watered up and get out. Day ain't gettin' any younger, and I ain't real anxious to go into those woods at night." He turned and headed for a storefront with the ever-present Blue Sun logo in the window, not waiting to see if Jayne and the Doctor followed. They must have done, because no sooner did he duck through into the cool dimness of the store than he heard a soft exclamation of delight from the Doctor.

"Look at that! They've got plumbing supplies. D'you know how many things you can build with a few bits of pipe and some wiring? It's really amaz–ow!"

Mal shot a glance over his shoulder and saw the Doctor rubbing his ribs. Jayne, standing next to him, had a smug look on his face. Mal sighed. Just like a parent with teenagers...

The store owner didn't look too pleased to see them, but he didn't go so far as to order them out. Even in the midst of trouble, folk could be counted on to be lookin' to make coin. Mal crossed to the cooler and began scooping out bottles of Blue Sun water.

The shopkeep was reluctant to meet his eyes as he tallied up the price, but finally he muttered, "Y'all the ones Zeke said he'd hire? To go out to the woods?"

Mal gave some thought to making a few remarks about Zeke's methods of hiring, but took a look at the weary fear on the older man's face and decided, for once, to be diplomatic. "Somethin' like that," he replied.

The other man stared hard at the counter before him, then raised his eyes to Mal's face. "Then you just take this stuff," he said finally. "And whatever else y'need. I won't charge you a thing."

Mal stared, a mite stunned. In his experience, folk didn't take too kindly to heroics these days. Oh, there'd been a time or two, during the war, when those with sympathy for the Independent cause had offered shelter, or other small kindnesses, but not so much any more. "Thank you," he said finally. It felt a bit strange, saying those words. He hadn't said them much in the past ten years.

The store owner nodded, his eyes sliding away from Mal's once more. Mal gathered up the water and signaled to Jayne that it was time to go. The Doctor was standing quiet, watching the goings-on with a curiously expressionless face. He held the door for the other two, and they stepped back out into the hot, dry daylight.

Mal stopped dead, just outside the door. "Ah, hell," he breathed. There was a group of townsfolk gathered in a knot in the street a few yards from the storefront. They didn't look happy.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. I was moving in roommates and helping roommates move out, and moving all my stuff to another bedroom, and trying to help my little brother (who is graduating in a month) job-hunt here in town. Craaaazy weekend. :) On a happier note, it appears that I not only survived all my classes, I managed to keep my grades intact and my reputation as a damn good writer of research papers. :D Only one class I don't know the grade yet, but I'm betting I did fine. (Shakespeare and I have always gotten along well.)

I'm giving thought to illustrating this fic...which means I'll have to buy a scanner, since mine doesn't work, but still...:)