Chapter Warnings: Smut (just in case ya'll forgot this is rated M)
Happy Monday everyone! I hope you've all had a good week! :)
This chapter was difficult to write, particularly the first section T_T Ahhhhhh
As always, thank you so much to silver-doe287 for editing this chapter!
Enjoy the chapter! :)
Zack could hear the cattle bellowing outside his and Aerith's window. Their cheerful greetings echoed across the pastureland and slipped into their bedroom, and the dawn's golden light trickled in soon after. The lacy curtains billowed in a warm breeze. The few oak trees scattered across the property waved towards the pink-tinged sky. Birds sang to the clouds smeared high above.
The mattress was groaning.
Zack's calloused fingers dug into the thin sheets as he thrust his hips forward, and Aerith's delicate moan rose up from under him. She was splayed beneath him, her hair fanning the milky pillow and her pale skin glistening in the equally pale light. Her eyes were pinched and her lips parted with her breathy gasps, and the sound of her pleasure had his cock jerking in anticipation.
He dipped his head down as heat stirred within him; still moving, he trailed lazy kisses along her jawline and she tilted her chin up to oblige him. Her pulse fluttered against his lips. He could taste her salt on his tongue, and its tang sent him twitching, wanting, and he loosened his iron grip on the bedsheets to run his hands down to her hips. Her skin was smooth beneath his callouses.
The nubs of his fingers pressed and kneaded against her, and her body arched with the movement; the hot tips of her breasts were flush against his chest, which sent a throb of desire so strongly through him that his breaths went uneven and heat pooled between his legs.
No matter how often they made love, it always felt like the first time.
He could feel Aerith's hands explore his body. Her fingers skimmed the sharp edges of his shoulder blades, traced the lifted scars running down his back and eventually found the tight swell of his ass. With a wicked grin her hands cupped his cheeks; and with his sharp intake of breath, she pulled him closer against her… and deeper inside her.
"Mine," she whispered into his ear.
The word was little more than a hot, breathy exhale, and yet a quiet curse tumbled out of his lips regardless; he pressed his forehead into the crook of Aerith's neck, eyes squeezed shut as that wild heat within him began to expand into something more. His rhythm went ragged. Flame that licked his body and tightened his core; and though he tried to calm down, tried to put Aerith's needs first, his control rapidly unraveled when Aerith's hand reached further down and cupped his balls. He jerked at the slight touch and saw stars, and when she gently tightened her hold, those same stars burst beneath his skin. Her fingers stroked all the right places and the uncontrollable heat between his legs began to feverishly contract, and unable to take it, he pushed himself even deeper into Aerith's hot folds as warmth pulsed down his length -
- and a cow suddenly bellowed into the room.
Zack nearly bit his tongue with the force of his curse, and he turned his sharp glare to the window as the fire within him sputtered and died… except the bedroom was now overlooking mountains instead of the pasture, which had him blinking in confusion. It took him another moment to realize that this wasn't even his bedroom. In fact, he wasn't even inside. Dirt was spread out beneath his body instead of Aerith, and to his right wasn't a framed window but instead a cheerful campfire that flickered and danced beneath a starlit sky.
He tilted his head upward, confusion etched across his features. "The hell?" he asked the stars…
… and Zack woke up with a start. He blinked, and then found himself staring up at a white ceiling with the covers tangled between his legs and bunched up in his hands. The Corel Inn, he distantly realized as he slowly sat up. There was a chill to the air, the sort that would be burned off when the sun fully rose, and yet his skin was clammy with sticky, uncomfortable heat. He also noticed that there was a very noticeable tent in the bedsheets, one that had him both rolling his eyes in annoyance and huffing in frustration.
He was debating to take care of it when another cow lowed to the rising sun, and he shifted his glare out the window. Damn cattle, he thought.
The inn Cloud had procured for them was built against the side of a hill. This meant that the sun didn't have to work as hard to climb over the mountains and warm his window, and that the cattle pasture stretched out beneath his window in a watercolor of greens and browns. The cows themselves dotted the field in clusters of brown and white, and their heads tilted towards the smeared clouds as they greeted the day. Loudly.
And Zack glared at every single one before resolutely, and stiffly, getting ready for the day. He'd undoubtedly miss the cows when they were sold, but right now, he missed his wife more… as did a certain member of his anatomy, he noted bitterly as he shrugged his pants on.
Why did I let Cloud talk me into this? he wondered as he pulled his worn shirt on next, and logic immediately answered: he had a baby on the way, and babies were expensive. So was fixing the fence, buying a new plow, and procuring seed for the next growing season. And, of course, this was completely ignoring the fact that Spirit needed a new saddle, bridle, reins, and horseshoes…
Zack's sharp exhale whistled between his teeth as the costs mounted. Why, he thought as he roughly splashed water on his face, does everything have to be so gosh darn expensive?
With no answers forthcoming, he grabbed his leather hat and exited his small inn room. Cloud's room was right beside his, and he quickly knocked on it on his way to the downstairs tavern; but when only silence replied, he slowly opened the door only to find out the room was empty.
Cloud must have already left for the day, Zack noted, and he glanced over the room with a practiced eye. The small water dish in the corner was dry, which meant that Cloud had left quite a while ago. The bed had also been made to crisp perfection, and Cloud's saddlebag – which was tucked neatly in the corner – had already been packed and was ready to go.
Zack frowned. That was the thing about Cloud; he traveled like he was already moving on.
Did he even sleep at all? Zack wondered as he quietly shut the door and made his way downstairs. He knew that Cloud hadn't been sleeping much these past few nights, but he figured it had just been the stress of riding; though after the fresh bruise Cloud sported the night before last, he wasn't sure if that was necessarily true anymore.
The thought had his frown deepening as he descended the creaking staircase. It was a quiet morning in the tavern, too early for the main crowd and too late for the early risers, and so the only people in the dining area were the inn owner Mary, a silver-haired man sitting at the counter, and Cloud himself sitting in the corner with his back to the wall. His eyes were glazed and unfocussed as he stared at the far wall, and he didn't notice Zack hovering at the entrance.
Cloud also wasn't wearing his hat, and that meant that there was nothing hiding the sunken shadows beneath his eyes or the large, purple-gray bruise smeared against his cheek. Maybe it could have been explained away as a simple fall to others, but Zack knew better. He had seen bruises like that before, and he knew what to look for: molted blue splotches formed four knuckles against his pale cheekbone, and beneath that, four closed fingers brushed downward in a series of inky blacks and rotted yellows. Worse, it was a full day old. The swelling may have lessened, but its color had deepened into something horrific.
It made Zack's chest tighten to look at. Cloud obviously didn't go out on a walk and trip, obviously; he had been a Ranger at one point, and he knew how to break a fall. No, it was clear that he was ambushed… and for some strange, inexplicable reason, he didn't want to tell Zack about it.
But why? The floorboards groaned as Zack made his way over to Cloud's table. That doesn't make sense. If bandits or robbers had been after the cattle, then Cloud would have been smart to call on Zack for backup. Same would be true if he had been attacked by some sort of monster. But to fight and not say anything, and then to lie about it the next morning?
Zack's expression pinched as he knew:
Something's wrong.
Cloud didn't notice Zack's approach. One of his hands propped up his head while the other rested near a full cup of coffee, his fingers lightly curled against the table's dark wood. No steam whispered up from the coffee's inky surface, and there wasn't a plate set out in front of him. If he had already ordered breakfast, it had long since been cleared away.
It was only when Zack grabbed the chair that Cloud's head jerked up in surprise, but recognition smoothed out his features immediately. He's jumpy, Zack thought as he sat down with a smile. He's expecting a fight.
"Mornin'," Zack greeted, as if all were right in the world. "You look deep in thought."
Cloud glanced at his hands, at the dirt embedded in their crescents, and then shrugged noncommittally. "Lookin' forward to goin' home," he replied. It didn't sound like a lie, but something in his tone made Zack pause. He sounded… guarded, distrustful, and distracted.
In fact, Zack realized after a pause, he sounds a lot like when he had first joined the Rangers.
Cloud had joined nearly five years ago now, when Cloud had been fourteen and Zack had been sixteen. Cloud had been a different breed of human back then; he had been painfully thin, fought dirty, and used language more colorful and creative than Zack had ever had the pleasure of listening too. Some had even called him wild or on a particularly nasty day, rabid. But Cloud had also been a crack shot. He had been their fastest rider, had been the lightest on his feet, and had been the quickest to react when things went wrong. In fact, as the years went on he had become something of a prodigy amongst the Rangers, though Zack was always quick to remind that he had joined first and was more decorated.
Something inside Zack faltered. It was strange how little all those decorations seemed to mean now.
"I'm missing home too," he finally replied when Mary, the innkeeper, walked over with a menu. He thanked her before she whisked away with an annoyed grunt. "It feels like it's been months."
Cloud's expression shifted. "It does," he agreed, and cleared his throat. "Gonna have your meetin' with the mayor today?"
Zack skipped the small beef section as he scanned the menu. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. "Sure am," he answered.
"When?"
"Half past noon." He flipped through the various items, and found himself torn between ordering a simple onion and potato omelet or the biscuits and gravy. On one hand, the omelet was cheap despite being made of two eggs instead of one. One the other hand, biscuits.
Cloud's finger tapped against the table. "Where?" he asked.
"Pasture with the cattle," Zack said, then flicked his gaze up. "What's with all the questions? Thought you didn't want to go."
"Just curious," Cloud replied, in far too lax of tone.
Zack hummed in response. There seemed to be something else going on, but… Guess I'll order the biscuits, he decided, and lifted two fingers in the air to signal that he was ready to order.
Cloud was once again tapping against the table, and his bruise stood out against his skin like blood on snow. "How long do you think your meeting is gonna take?"
Mary sauntered over with a stormy look, though her expression smoothed when she reached their table. "Awfully curious," Zack pointed out. "You sure you don't want to come?"
Cloud's eyes dropped back down his hands and frowned at them. There were scars on his knuckles. "I'm sure."
Zack hummed again, then lifted his gaze towards Mary, who seemed put off at being forgotten. "Ma'am," he greeted.
"Sir," Mary replied, tone clipped. She managed to make the simple word sound like an insult. "What would you like to order?"
"Biscuits and gravy, please."
She didn't even bother writing down his request. "An' to drink?"
"Coffee."
"Cream and sugar?"
"Yes please."
"Comin' right up," she told him in a disappointed tone, and then she was walking back the way she came before Zack could get another word in. She didn't even bother glancing at the silver-haired man in the corner, who seemed content reading a newspaper. Apparently she wasn't expecting many orders coming from him.
Zack watched her return behind the counter, and then turned back to Cloud. "Bit of a spitfire," he said, referring to Mary.
"Her husband is working on the railroad, apparently," Cloud replied. "So she's been managin' the inn by herself. Busy work."
"Ah." That certainly explained a lot. "You already have breakfast?"
Cloud held up his coffee in response.
Zack arched an eyebrow. "That all? You're gonna need more than that."
"Later," Cloud replied offhandedly, then changed the subject. "While you an' Barret are meeting, I'll be buyin' some supplies for the trip home. Noticed that we were low on dried fruit and jerky."
"And beans," Zack tacked on. "Gotta have me some beans."
"And beans," Cloud agreed with a ghost of a smile, and then he slowly rose to his feet. He rose stiffly, as if his muscles were protesting the entire way up, but he didn't even wince.
Zack's gaze went distant. That was another trait from back then; when Cloud had first joined the Rangers, another fresh recruit had set his gun down and it had went off. Freak accident. But the bullet had gotten Cloud right in the leg, and yet beside the initial gasp of pain, he didn't even flinch. Not even when they yanked the bullet out, which had other men screaming through leather. It gave Zack shivers to recall. He wondered if Cloud still had the scar.
"Anythin' else?" Cloud asked, drawing Zack back to the present.
Zack shook his head. "Nothin' I can think of," he replied as he leaned back in his chair. Cloud's strange behavior was rubbing off on him. "Where you headed?"
"Stables, to say mornin' to Rain," Cloud replied. His voice was crisp, like it had been ironed out and left to dry too long in the sun. "You know, to brush her down and such."
Zack was fairly certain that brushing the horses was the stablehand's job, but… "Have fun," he told Cloud with a wave of his hand.
"Thanks," he replied, and set the rimmed hat on his straw-gold hair. He adjusted it so that it shadowed his eyes, and then he was walking towards the door, strides long and purposeful.
It was then that Zack noticed that Cloud had stitched a piece of soft leather onto the bottom of his boots, so that they didn't make any noise as he walked.
The coffee cupped between Tifa's palms had long since gone cold, and hardly a ripple passed across its inky surface as she gazed out the window pane. The window was a wretched thing. It was still nicked and chipped from a dust storm that had blown across the land years ago, it groaned when she opened it, and it rattled and complained when she didn't. It was a wonder it was still attached to the house.
But now when she gazed through its warped and foggy glass, she could see – in striking, crystalline clarity – Loz tied up against the oak tree. She could see where the rope had been tied so tightly it chaffed his wrists. She could make out where the skin on his knuckles had torn. Her eyes traced the bloody hole in his shoulder, half hidden beneath his tattered vest, and wondered just how deeply her steak knife had gone. Had it nicked an artery? Had it scraped against his bones? Had its red-soaked tip made it to the other side?
The thought made her nauseous to consider, but what sickened her further was that he was watching her just as she was watching him. Their gazes met one another through the windowpane. He smiled at her emotionless expression; his smile was made out of broken glass and torn metal, and it took all of her pride to not tear her gaze away. His smile broadened and his chest began to shake as he noticed, and it occurred to her that he was laughing.
Tifa's grip tightened on her coffee cup.
He was laughing at her.
Aerith hovered behind her, with her own cup of black coffee nestled between her slender fingers. "I can't believe it," she murmured for the fifth time since the sun rose. "I shot him point-blank in the chest. He should be dead, not…." She gestured hopelessly out the window, to where Loz's bullet-riddled body continued to laugh. "Not whatever this is."
"He's a devil," Tifa replied simply, as she had the entire morning. There was simply no other way to describe the strange, slitted-eyed man. He didn't go down from being kicked, he shrugged off getting stabbed, and apparently he also laughed off being filled with lead. "It would take more than a single bullet to kill him."
"Should I call an exorcist?" Aerith asked seriously.
It wasn't funny, but Tifa's lips twitched into a smile anyway. "Hmm… Maybe." She flexed her hands around her forgotten cup of coffee, and her bandages went taunt at her knuckles. "Perhaps we should commission a priest for holy water as well. And silver bullets, maybe?"
"I've also heard that if you salt the door, then negative energies cannot enter," Aerith added in a low tone. "Salt is plentiful around her. We could do it right now."
Tifa's gaze went distant. She recalled how Loz had stepped into her home like he owned it, and how heavy his footsteps sounded against the old floorboards. She remembered how his deep voice echoed across the hallway like sandpaper, how his gun left cracks against the walls, and how easily he had overpowered her.
If Aerith had not come…
Tifa shuddered against the thought, and didn't pursue it further. "I don't think," she slowly, softly replied, "a simple line of salt would stop him."
Sometime between being skimmed by a bullet to right now, she realized that she was fragile. She was painfully, humanly she was upset, she cried. When she was hit, she bruised. When she was cut, she bled freely upon the ground.
She ran a hand along the bandages on her arm as she glanced over her shoulder. Though the floors had been freshly scrubbed, she could still see the brick-red bloodstains from when Loz had been shot. She could see the outline of his body in the shrapnel peppering the wall.
It'll be expensive to fix everything, she thought, but distantly, as if this was just a dream and she'd wake up soon. But at least Cloud's gettin' some money right now.
Though… Her throat tightened, and it was suddenly difficult to swallow. …I wish he was here right now instead.
Her lips pursed and she returned her gaze back towards the window. Loz's smile seemed to have widened, as if he could read her thoughts.
"So what should we really do about him?" Tifa finally asked. She was grateful her voice was even, but she sounded too loud in the tense quiet. "We can't leave him tied up forever."
Aerith placed a finger against her cheek in thought, her gaze similarly pinned outside the window. The morning sunlight made her eyes look like spring, and they were a simple splash of green amongst a plain brown world. "He's the younger Simmel brother, right?" she asked after a pause.
Tifa nodded. "I believe so."
"Then wouldn't he have a bounty?" Aerith looked away from the window to look at her, and her brow was drawn with worry. She looked older, Tifa suddenly realized. Not old with age but… wiser somehow, like the two small years that divided them was spread across lifetimes. "Sephiroth Simmel had a bounty, anyway. Quite a large one too. Heard that the two men that captured him are now very well off."
Tifa heard that same story, that two men by the name of Cid and Vincent managed to outmaneuver and overpower Sephiroth Simmel in the lonely south. Rumor had it that there was a third anonymous man that contributed to Sephiroth's eventual capture, but that's all it was: a rumor, and an unsubstantial one at that.
"So," Tifa began slowly as Aerith moved to sit across from her, "you're saying that if the elder Simmel had a hefty bounty, then the younger does as well."
"Exactly," Aerith affirmed.
Tifa nodded. Makes sense, she thought, and she glanced back out the window and into Loz's slitted green eyes. He was still smiling, and his smile broadened when he noticed her stare. His lips moved as he said something, but whatever he said was lost to the dry breeze. Tifa was grateful for it.
"Think they would have more information back in Rocket Town? We have his horse, after all." Loz's horse was a stunningly large but surprisingly gentle, silver mare. She was happily occupying Rain's empty stable, with a trough full of fresh water and a bundle of hay to keep her company. "We could be there before nightfall. Then bring back the sheriff," Tifa added. "Have him deal with this."
Aerith delicately frowned. "We could," she slowly but hesitantly agreed.
"If we manage to pull it off and win the bounty, we'd both be rich then." Tifa propped her chin onto her elbow; her knuckles smarted from where she had scuffed them last night. "Richer than selling the cattle way out in Corel, at any rate."
Aerith's laugh was dry and light. "Now wouldn't that be somethin'. Our husbands go out to earn some extra coin, and while they're gone, we earn far more than they could ever dream about."
"That would be quite the story," Tifa replied with a small smile. "Though, Cloud is quite the dreamer when it comes to money."
"Oh?"
"He has this idea that one day, we'll be rich enough to have a hot water heater and electricity way out here," Tifa grinned, and Aerith giggled in reply. Water heaters and electricity could be found in the big cities, particularly in Midgar where the Shinra Electric Company was headquartered, but certainly not way out in the bushes. "He wants lights all out in the yard, equipment for the fields, and I think that he hopes to hire some help as well."
"He is quite the dreamer," Aerith laughed. "But wouldn't it drive him crazy, to have others muck up his stable?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Zack is the same way." Aerith glanced out the window, and her smile grew soft. "He hopes to one day earn enough so we never have to worry about fixing the fences again, but right now his dreams are a little more…"
"Realistic?" Tifa offered.
"More short term," Aerith replied, and vaguely gestured to her round belly. "You know, with the baby comin' and all."
A shadow flicked across Tifa' expression – I put her and her baby in danger last night – and the lighthearted conversation snapped between them like a brittle wafer. They could have been shot.
"How did you know?" Tifa asked after a lengthy pause.
Aerith arched an eyebrow. "How did I know what?"
"That I was in trouble," Tifa clarified. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair; her body ached from the fight last night. "You didn't have a horse, so it must have been a long walk for you. Not to mention unsafe, especially after nightfall..."
Aerith's eyes lit up in understand. "Ah. I see. Well… I just had a feeling, I suppose." She leaned back in her chair, and it groaned beneath her weight. "I get them sometimes, jus' here and there. Like a few days ago; when I woke up, I just knew that you and Cloud would be comin' over to visit. Had the feelin' that Cloud and Zack would be going on a long trip as well, so I made some chocolate."
Tifa's eyes widened a fraction. She remembered the chocolate Aerith had given to her the day she and Cloud rode up to their property, along with her teasing whisper that if she gave it to Zack to deliver, he'd eat all of it and Cloud wouldn't see a thing.
"You made chocolate because you knew you'd see us that day," Tifa realized.
Aerith's smiled into her coffee. "What, you thought I make chocolate all the time?" She laughed then, as if the suggestion was ridiculous. "Even I don't have that sort of time!"
"I don't know what I thought," Tifa admitted, still smiling, but her smile slipped as she glanced out the window. Still Loz sat against the oak tree, pleased and proud as could be. It occurred to her that he hadn't even tried to escape during the long night.
Tifa glanced back to Aerith, and the humor had faded from her eyes. "Before we turn Loz in for the supposed bounty," she began delicately, "should we get some answers?"
Aerith's expression hardened and she flicked her gaze to her shotgun that leaned against the wall, freshly cleaned and loaded. "Maybe we should," she replied, her tone as light as a dagger.
"Do you want to stay inside?" Tifa asked. "For the baby -"
"And leave you alone out there?" Aerith interrupted with a scowl. "Absolutely not."
"But -"
"And no buts." Aerith crossed her arms over her chest. "We do this together, or we leave that man out there to bake until the husbands get home and it's four against one."
Tifa liked those odds, but the thought of having Loz remain out there for a few more days, watching her through the windows and laughing…
She'd go mad.
"All right," she murmured, and slowly rose to her feet. "All right, we'll go together."
"That's what I thought."
Tifa moved to grab her rifle. She had cleaned it thoroughly last night, and knew that it wouldn't be jamming again. She also kept a knife on her, though. Just in case.
"Let's do this," she murmured to no one in particular, and then threw the front door open.
The gun was cold in her hands.
The day was already promising to be sweltering. The morning's chill was quickly being burned off by the rising sun, and the sky above was a single sheet of pale blue. The hum of insects filled the air, the brown earth that surrounded Corel was beginning to shimmer in the heat, and the cracked horizon wavered and danced to its own song.
Cloud threw open the door to the stable. The old wood groaned beneath his touch, and he was pleased to find that the stable's interior was cool. That was good; that meant that despite its appearances, it had proper insulation and would keep the night's chill off of the horses. Even better, the stable was also empty, which gave Cloud a small measure of comfort as he closed the door behind him. Rain herself seemed especially pleased by the accommodations, and she craned her head over the stall door to greet him.
He placed a hand against the side of her head. "Mornin'," he murmured, and she blinked low and lazy in reply. "You happy?"
She replied with a shake of her head, and then she reached even further over the stall to brush her muzzle against his cheek. Cloud went still. Her nose was wet and cold against the dark bruise, but he didn't pull away. He wouldn't allow himself to.
"Yeah, still there," he told her as she drew her head back, and he offered her a soft smile. "But don't worry. It don't hurt much anymore."
She snorted as if calling him an idiot, which almost had him chuckling.
Almost.
"They brush you?" he asked, changing the subject. He glanced over to her long mane and tail; it certainly looked as if the stablehands had brushed her, and a quick look at her clean hooves told him that those had also been taken care of.
Some tension unraveled from him; despite everything, at least he would know that she was being taken care of, and he quietly unlocked her stall door. Rain's ears shot up in anticipation of a ride, only to fall when she realized that he was joining her instead. Her disappointment passed quickly, however, when she realized that he was digging for something in one of his bags hanging on the wall.
"No, it's not a carrot," Cloud said when she urgently nudged his shoulder. "Jus' lookin' for your… the holy hell?" He made a disgusted sound and pulled his hand out of the bag, his eyebrows drawn at the sticky brown substance coating his hands. It took him a moment of staring to realize that it was chocolate, the same chocolate that Aerith had made before he and Zack left home.
He harshly sighed. "Con sarn it," he cursed, and he wiped his hand against an old rag lying nearby. He had forgotten about the chocolate, which annoyed him. How the hell did he forget about chocolate?
Rain nudged his shoulder again, drawing him back to the present. "No, that's not for you," he told her while he grabbed her brush. Chocolate had smeared its bristles, and he uttered another, more colorful cursebefore he grabbed another rag.
Before long, he had cleaned the brush and Rain was standing in front of him, her eyes closed in contentment as he brushed out her silky mane. It was a familiar routine, one that was even a bit therapeutic, and soon Cloud's eyes glazed over and his mind wandered.
I'll break into the mayor Barret's office while he's meeting with Zack, he mentally rehearsed. He already knew where the office was thanks to his previous visit, and habit had him noticing that the door used a common type of warded lock. Warded locks were designed to be rotated concentrically, and though Cloud no longer had his skeleton key – that had been lost along with his old life – he certainly remembered how to fashion simple lock picks using bits of thin metal.
Lucky for him, metal was a common thing in a town determined to build a railroad.
He continued to brush out Rain's mane, expression bland even as he thought, Or I can just make a new skeleton key. It wouldn't be hard. His own home had a warded lock on their door – it was cheap and deterred most folks, after all – so all he had to do was file down the edges of his key.
But that'll take time, he knew. He'd first have to find something hard enough to wear down metal, and second he'd have to find the time to properly file down the key's ridges. The process would take hours at best… hours that he didn't have if the meeting was happening soon.
Frowning now, he shifted his gaze towards the empty stall beside his, and paused. A Farrier's knife, used to excess sole and frog from the horse's feet, hung neatly beside a hoof nipper. Both featured thin metal protrusions that would fit nicely into a lock, with a little manipulation of course.
That would work, he knew, and he slowly set aside the brush. A chill settled over him. Rain huffed her disappointment but Cloud only offered her a sad smile, then with practiced ease made his way over to the next stall and noiselessly slipped the tools off the wall.
It was easy.
Too easy, and he dropped the tools into his chocolate-smeared bag. Their dull metal gleamed in the dark, andhe closed the bag with an unreadable expression.
What am I doing? a part of him wondered, except that part and all of the other parts that had been forged by bullets and blood already knew the answer:
Surviving.
A bump against his shoulder reined in his thoughts, and he turned to find Rain watching him with a her big, brown eyes. He blinked at her, but her gaze didn't waver. She pinned him beneath that stare and seemed to be asking, Are you all right?
Cloud ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he whispered, and placed a hand against her nose. She exhaled her contentment. "Rain, I think… things are gonna get bad again."
She shook her head beneath his hand, but he wasn't sure what she was saying.
"Will you help me one more time?" he asked. His voice was nearly soundless in the dark stable, and he was vaguely aware his fingers were trembling. Maybe stealing wasn't as easy as he thought; that even though his body remembered, his mind was begging to forget.
Rain suddenly snorted into his palm, but the meaning was lost to him. He only stared, and stared, and stared.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I sort of saw this chapter as the prelude to what comes next, which is as you can imagine, NOTHING GOOD.
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Until next time: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best :)
