To 8Ball3- No, she really doesn't. She's tired

To Anonymous Person Lucky 13- Hello again! How have you been? I know it seems all depressing right now, but bear with me. Got lots more to get through before she becomes that 'hyper badass' we all know and love ^_^

Sorry for the late in the day update, today has been rough, to put it nicely :/


It was around Christmas time. The lights were out. Trees were decorated. Children were gawping through toy shop windows. Santa stood outside most shops, ringing his bell and collecting people's change in his bucket. The snow had fallen, grit was tossed onto sidewalks, snow ploughs were clearing the roads.

Louisa and Storm were closer to the slushy roads than they were the festivities. Louisa was bundled up in all the layers she owned. Her blanket was folded in half and draped over Storm's back and she had acquired big fluffy socks along the way to protect Storm's feet from the icy trails. They still shivered. The wind was biting on any exposed skin, snow froze to their clothes and not slipping on black ice was like finding a god that didn't want her give her a quest.

It became darker earlier, fires were harder to start. Louisa discovered, some time last week, that her waterproofing abilities could expand to things out of water- snow-sodden sticks and branches were dry with a shake. They stole newspapers from trash cans, drying those too and using them as fire-starters. Keeping the flame going was the trick. Winter winds did not like the heat.

"Here." Louisa said. She held an apple out on the palm of her hand. "We'll have to get some more."

What are you having?

"Soup." Storm took the apple with a murmur of thanks, eating slowly, savouring it. Louisa cracked open a can of soup with her knife, putting it in the embers to warm up. She placed a few twigs on the other side of the hearth, fingers turning from red to blue. "Your wings OK?"

Cold.

"I'll try 'n' get you another blanket."

You need hand socks.

"What?"

Hand socks. Storm repeated, tilting her head when Louisa gave a snort of laughter. What are they called?

"Gloves, Storm. They're called gloves."

You humans and your hands. Pfft.

"My hands get you apples."

And I thank them for their service. Doesn't mean they're not weird though.

"Ain't nothin' weird 'bout my hands. Shut up."

I think hand socks are a better name for them anyway.

"Of course you do."

Foot gloves.

"No."

Head sleeve.

"That's nowhere close."

Yes it is.

"It's really not."

Oh, what do you know?

"Human things."


Louisa stared up at the sign. She and Storm had agreed, a few minutes ago, that it pointed them in the direction of San Francisco. The only problem- they hadn't agreed on what the thing sat on top of the sign was.

Poke it.

"I'm not pokin' it."

It might be dead though.

"It's not dead. It's asleep. Look, it's snorin'."

I can't see snoring. I think it's a man.

"Why's he hangin' of the sign then?"

Maybe he jumped.

"He's got arrows."

So?

"They're punchy arrows."

So? Storm snorted. Louisa rolled her eyes. Something about the man folded over the top of the sign and snoring struck her as odd- the few cars that drove past didn't so much as slow down to look at him. She walked forward, testing her steps as she went, her tailbone already bruised from multiple slips. Storm was a few paces behind her, stepping where she did. Oh, that's interesting. Storm mused as they reached the back of the sign.

The man was not a man. His lower half was a horse, a tan coloured horse's body with a black tail and all four legs just hanging down. What is he?

"Centaur."

Wow, you knew that?

"Met one."

Cool. Should we get him down?

"I dunno."

That doesn't help. Storm considered the centaur again. She could see his quiver better now, realising what 'punchy arrows' were. Rather than the pointy tips she was used to seeing on Louisa's arrows, these were little boxing gloves- hand socks- and a few others with oddly shaped attachments. Poke him.

"You poke him."

I don't want to poke him. I don't have hands to poke him.

"That doesn't stop you pokin' me."

You're very pokeable.

"Thanks." Louisa muttered. She shivered, cold wind twisting past, tucking her nose in the neck of her jacket. Storm shook her mane, huffing. Louisa adjusted the blanket on her back, sighing. "We'll wake him so he don't freeze. Then we'll keep goin'. OK?" Storm nodded.

Louisa slipped and slid her way forward, catching herself on one of the centaur's legs. He snorted, but didn't wake. She tugged on his leg. Storm bit his tail and pulled. They hauled and yanked and yelled at him. Louisa's foot went on ice and she yelped, falling onto her back, thoroughly winding herself. Storm huffed, determined, letting go of the tail to firmly bite the centaur on the calf.

"Ow!" He protested, sitting upright. "Uh oh." The movement dislodged him from the sign. Storm cried out, scrambling away, the centaur crash-landing where she had been a split second later. "Like, what in tarnation, dude? Don't you know not to wake a 'taur when he's napping? Jeez." He kicked his legs, rolling and spluttering in the snow. He managed to worm his way onto his front, but if getting up on two legs was disastrous for Louisa, getting up on four legs was impossible. His arms pinwheeled, his feet slid in four different directions, he fell again and again. Louisa sat up, catching her breath. Storm hovered somewhere near her, ducking her head to lick her human's face.

You OK?

"Mm-hm."

That was funny. Do it again.

"Go away."

Should we help him up?

"Suppose."

Between them, they managed to heave and shove and pull and scold the centaur until he was on all fours. He spread his arms, like a tight-rope walker, and investigated the snowy surroundings sceptically.

"This ain't Texas."

"No." Louisa agreed. "This is the road."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"Why you out here then?"

"Walkin'."

"With a pegasus?" He jabbed a thumb at Storm. She perked up, whickering proudly.

I like him. He got it right first try.

"Yes, with a pegasus." Louisa nodded. "Why were you up there? How were you up there? 'N' why does your shirt say Farty- Farty what?"

"Party Ponies." He brushed snow from his T-shirt, uncovering the P. Louisa frowned at it, watching the letters shift about again. "Party Ponies, Texas Chapter." He told her. Louisa glanced at Storm, eyebrow raised. "I'm Austin. You are?"

"Depends on wherever ya gonna eat us."

"Why did ya'll wake me up if ya'll thought I was gonna eat ya'll?"

"Ya'll?" Louisa repeated. "Ya'll."

Stop it.

"No, I like that word. Ya'll."

"You understand what she's sayin'?" Austin puzzled.

"Yes." Louisa squinted up at him. He leaned down, squinting right back at her.

"Oh, it's you. Neptune's kid, ain't ya?" She pouted, but the answer was clear. "Heard about you, ya little mite." Austin grinned, going to mess her hair, but simply moving her hat about her head instead. "You been causin' all kinds o' trouble, ain't ya?" She nodded distractedly, correcting her hat and itching her forehead as memories started to swirl. Trouble is not the word she would have used. "Where ya'll headin' then?"

San Francisco. Storm supplied. There's a camp there for Lou.

"San Francisco? Nah, man. Ya'll wanna head back that way, to-"

"Long Island?" Louisa cut across. "No thanks."

"Me cousin works over there. You'll love him, he's great with kids."

"No thanks."

"Heard you were stubborn." Austin laughed. "A'ight then, little miss. I'll do you a deal. You help me find my people 'n' I'll help you 'n' your pegasus here get to San Francisco. How's that sound?" Louisa looked at Storm, putting the question to her. Storm snorted, ear flicking.

"As long as you don't eat us, it's a deal."

"Ah, you ain't big enough for me ta eat. That was a joke, don't look at me like that."