Part two.
The winds of change.
She stood in the meadow, picking blackberries for baking scones with Tad that evening. Her faithful companion, now lovingly referred to as Cheif, was busy chasing bunnies and tripping over his own long ears.
The smell of crushed hay stubble beneath the soles of her boots was thick, blackberry juice running sweet and sticky through her fingers, and the June sun warm and gentle on her head.
It felt good to be back home. Home, what a wild and beautiful notion. This place truly was her home now. She felt it in her heart and blood, like the calling of a Mockingbird or the whirls of a Katydid. She was a part of this land. Felt it sinking into the marrow of her bones. "You take it all in," Soul had said once, "with your eyes and your breath and the pores of your skin. The land eventually owned you more than you did it." The thought of Soul roused the sweetest emotions in her chest, her eyes instinctively searching for him.
Soul was working out in the coral, halter breaking a yearling filly. He held the halter in one hand and with the other he gently stroked the foal's neck.
Though she could not hear him from here, she watched his lips moving, and she pictured the gentle words of encouragement spoken to the skittish horse. It was easy to watch him from her meadow perch, surrounded by nature, apart from the commotion, but able to peek through the veil below. She could see the hard lines of his body and his sweat slicked alabaster hair shining in the sunlight.
Maka watched the muscles in his arms bulge and ripple with the work. There was a rugged beauty in the way he accomplished his labor. She didn't know a single man who could match his kind of masculinity. By the sweat of his brow and the power of his muscles, he earned everything he owned. If only her father had sent me to marry him! The thought unbidden, stunned her. Back home in London society, Soul have been a nobody. He was far beneath her in class. Her father wouldn't have let him in the front door. Here, things were different. Men were measured by their accomplishments instead of their pedigree. In the time she'd been here, Maka had grown to respect Soul Evans more and more. Measured on his own merits, he was head and shoulders above any man she'd ever known.
As if sensing her gaze lingering on him he turns and shades his eyes with a hand, searching. It felt unnatural sometimes how easily he could sense her. How easily their eyes would crash simultaneously, green and crimson melding together.
He finds her, hidden among the blackberry bushes.
For a moment he stares at her in that darkly intense way of his. Then a corner of his mouth curves into a slow smile that indents the faint dimple in his cheek. He smiles at her with his whole self and waves.
It catches her like a blow beneath the ribs. She snaps her attention away from him, yet the pain in her chest lingers. She wonders if there is any greater pain than loving some one who doesn't return it.
The sounds of the screen door slamming casues her gaze to shift to the house, movement catching her attention. It's Tsubaki on the back porch, her face rosey and eyes bright. Black Star is there, accepting a basket of lunch from the soft spoken and willowy woman. Their fingers touch as they exchange the basket, and their eyes hold fast to one another. There's a faint dusting of pink on Black Star's cheeks. He leans in closer, drawn to her, wanting to keep that little bit of intimacy for a moment longer. But Tad rounds the corner of the house and Tsubaki turns swify away from him, her eyes heavy and sad. Black Star watches her go, his knuckles bone white as he clutches the basket, as she slips away from him. He's not able to stop her or call out to her.
The sun no longer feels warm on her head as she watches this quiet exchange. Maka's heart shatters for her friends, and the cold realization of how nothing can be done to fix it.
Maybe there is a greater pain in fact, than loving some one who doesn't return it. Loving someone who does return it, but isn't allowed to confess it.
The scones as promised, were everything and more. Soul, like the heathen he was, had devoured his fair share, proclaiming that some things from England weren't all bad. His soft smile had caused Maka's heart to skip.
They had all departed ways soon after desert, full stomachs and sleepy smiles. The last few weeks had been long, everyone was eager to sleep in their own beds, no longer forced to sleep on the ground.
Tad had been beside himself, not wanting to go back to the bunk house. The though of leaving Maka alone in the house with Soul was almost too much for the young boy. With a wink, Maka sneaks him a few left over scones and promises to come find him in the morning. The boy is smitten, and agrees, as long as she promises to lock her bedroom door tonight.
In the hallway, she whispers to Tsubaki, asking if she can come see her later, after everyone has fallen sleep. Tsubaki smiles in agreement, seemingly happy her friend is back home.
Maka has missed the raven haird women greatly while away. Sneaking to her room will give them both a chance to speak freely, away from prying ears.
It was now midnight, the hall clock chiming away the hours. Maka tiptoes down the hall in her bare feet and wearing nothing but a men's night shirt and loose fitting cotton pants. Maka knocks softly and Tsubaki let's her in with a radiant smile. Her hair is unbound and brushed, polished to an ebony finish. She is wrapped in a beautiful kimono robe mad of scarlett silk. She looks beautiful and exotic, like she just stepped off the boat from a distant land.
It's no wonder Black Star can't keep his eyes from her.
"Tell me all about your trip!" Tsubaki chirps, offering Maka a tray of late night snacks. Maka smiles, looking at the goodies. After eating nothing but beans and cornbread, She has also missed her friend's wonderful cooking.
It would be so easy to just sit and catch up, to talk of simpl things. But that's not why she came here in the dead of night. She has questions.
"I'll tell you all about my trip, in return may I ask you something?" Maka hedges.
"Of course, hun? What do you want to know?" Tsubaki asks, a little miffed by her friend's serious expression.
"How long will you and Black Star deny your feelings?"
Maka blushes, not able to stop her blunt question.
Tubaki pauses, mid bite of a cookie, her dark eyes going wide. She swallows her bite, almost painfully, or maybe it's the words she is about to say that pains her so.
"I do not know. Maybe forever."
Maka hates herself for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, but her chest is tight with worry for her two beloved friends.
I know Black Star loves you, and you love him. What I don't understand is why you both choose to live here. Why don't you both leave? You could start over together in a new place."
Tsubaki shrugs her dainty shoulders, a sad smile gracing her pale face.
"Our loyalty lies here, with Stein. We all love him, so very much. If we left, it would devastate him."
Maka balls her fists into her fraying nightshirt, her mind very loud in the silence. "I don't understand it," She stammers. "Why do you show him such loyalty, what has he done to earn so much devotion from all of you? I know my uncle took everyone in when they had nowhere else to go, but there has to be more to it? Something I'm missing?"
Tsubaki draws in a sharp breath before saying, "We all are loyal to Stein for what he's done for us. Everyone here was lost in a way before coming to the ranch. It's different for Black Star, Soul, and I. The three of us were special cases. We owe him everything."
Maka's head aches at the implication of her words.
"You make it sound as if he saved your lives."
"He did." She says simply. "You know Soul's story, how Stein found him as a child? He saved him from wandering the prairie, from starving to death, and going completely mad. He took that broken child in when sane people would have left him to die."
Maka nods, unable to speak, her heartbreaking all over again for Soul and what he has endured.
"Black Star, his parents were heading west, to Oregon for a better life. Along the way, he became sick with cholera, and they left him on the side of the trail, to die alone and slowly. Or to be eaten by the wild animals. He was only 4. Stein found him, nursed him back to health at the risk of his own health. That's just the kind of man he is."
Maka cringes, the thought of leaving one's baby to die is almost too sad to contemplate.
"What did he save you from Tsubaki?" She asks, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Tsubaki grows quiet, her eyes staring at the floor, downcast and unsteady. Whatever she is about to say is hard for her to speak of. Her eyes go somewhere far away, to a place she is trying to recall.
"I came from far away. From a beautiful land," She whispers. "In the bays and rainy basins of my homeland of Foochow, this was the season of the monsoon. The air would be as hot as it is here, but steaming like a water pipe. The mists would hug the hills of tea shrubs and bamboo groves. Along the banks of the Min River, rice paddies would glimmer emerald and jade green beneath the haze-haloed sun."
Tsubaki sat in a deep inner stillness, shrouded by the misty veil of her memories.
"I would often play in my father's garden or sit with my mother on the stone turtle bench in the shade of the banyan tree, sipping warm rice milk and nibbling on slices of candied ginger."
"It sounds like a beautiful place," Maka exhales in awe. "Were you happy there?"
"I was, but only for a short time."
"Why did you leave?" Maka asks leaning back on her palms, legs stretched out on Tsubaki's bed.
"My parents passed suddenly, disease taking them both. In my homeland, the men rule the household, and I was inherited by my older brother. He did not want me though." Tsubaki's voice cracks, her body starts to tremble.
"That's terrible," Maka whispers, and wraps her arms around her friend, trying the shield her from her painful past. She feels so cold and small in her embrace, a vast contrast to the vibrant woman she truly is.
After a moment Tsubaki finds her voice.
"He sold me, like a piece of furniture or cattle. A slave trader bought me, and I was bound with ropes and placed on a ship for San Francisco America."
Tsubaki's countenance tumbles into a dark thing. Her hand squeezing Maka's shoulder to the point of pain.
"I was alone in a new country, I knew no English, I couldn't even beg for help when they put me on the auction block. A brothel owner bought me, for $20. I was 6. Then as if a miracle, the scariest man I've ever seen appears. He's tall and lanky, with wire-rimmed glasses, crazy eyes, and scars all over his face. But to me, he was like the powerful fu dog statues that guarded the entrance to my ancestor's home.
He paid the brothel a pouch of gold for me and took me away from that horrible place. He brought me here, kept me safe, and fed. He taught me how to speak English, read, write, and many other things that most women aren't lucky enough to learn, let alone a girl from the oriental. I would have lived a very tragic life if Stein hadn't been there to save me."
"I had no idea, I'm so sorry you had to endure so much pain Tsubaki," Maka murmurs, squeezing the woman almost as tight as her chest now feels.
"What's in the past is done. We all had our childhoods ripped away from us, one way or another. Stein is the only father figure a lot of us have ever had. This is our home. The thought of leaving it and everyone else we love behind is almost too much to bear."
Tsubaki hugs her in return then pulls back to look at her. Her face is worried, almost beseeching.
"I hope you know, that there is heartache far worse than what Black Star and I share. Maybe you can understand us all a little better now and how we feel for Stein?"
Maka's head jerks and she swipes at a tear running down her cheek. She might not understand all of it, but she can feel the love and strife of every person here. They weigh on her heart as well. If they loved Stein, then she would respect that, and maybe one day learn to love her uncle as well.
There is a soft tap on the door, effectively making both women jump. The door opens swiftly and a large shadow steals into the room.
"Tsubaki, do you have a minute, I wanted to see you..." Black Star's voice trails off as he shuts the door firmly behold him. His eyes glow wild in the lamplight as he takes is the sight of them. They are sitting in their nightclothes, wrapped in an intimate embrace.
Before Maka can bring she is pinned up against the wall, his forearm braces against her throat.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He growls.
She can not speak with his arm across her windpipe. She looks him in the eyes and he looks straight back into hers, an angry haze shimmering there.
"Stop it!" Tsubaki demands, reaching their side.
"No one touches you!" He growls, never breaking eye contact.
Maka's vision begins to swim as she gasps for air.
Tsubaki takes her hand and swings hard, her slap ringing loudly in their ears; his cheek turning instantly red. Black Star's body sags, his jaw going slack at the suddenness of it all. He looks at her, shock and betrayal clearly written there.
"Please put her down, you're choking her! She's a woman!" Tsubaki begs.
Black Star's anger melts into bewilderment. He looks at her. Really looks at her. Then understanding flashes in his eyes.
He removes his arm from her throat and Maka sinks to the cold floor. She gasps, gulping in the sweet sweet air that her lungs are screaming for.
Before she can catch her breath Black Star hauls her up by the shoulders holding her firmly into place, his eyes searching her face.
"God English, I'm so sorry." He moans shaking her slightly, rattling her already scrambled brains. "I didn't mean to. I was just so angry. And holy fuck! You really are a woman!" He practically shouts.
Her chest is still bound, but you can see her figure through the thin nightshirt she wears.
"Shhh!" Tsubaki hisses, leaning her head out the door. After a moment she shuts the door behind her, shaking her head all the while. It's a good thing Soul sleeps like the dead, otherwise, this would have been worse.
Maka looks at them through tear-filled eyes, her breathing slowly coming back to normal.
"I didn't mean to. I, I just thought.." Black Star stammers, backing up. He throws Tsubaki a helpless look.
"You are the only one for me my love," Tsubaki says softly, taking his shaking hand. "Don't ever think otherwise."
"Yeah, she's not really my type," Maka croaks.
"Jesus, you even sound like a woman. How did I not know?" Black Star groans.
"You and Soul are both a little thick sometimes," Tsubaki supplies helpfully.
"Soul doesn't know?! Black Star nearly bellows, eliciting another round of shushing.
"We have to tell him. Don't we? I mean, he's the boss." Black Star asks, his words not sounding very sure.
Maka breathes through her open mouth, the fear of discovery clearing the fog from her head.
"It isn't our secret to tell," Tsubaki murmurs, squeezing his arm.
"I reckon." He agrees, though he shakes his head in obvious denial. Black Star paces the room like an animal; cornered and desperate.
"God, Soul is going to murder me when he finds out." He says, running a hand through his hair.
"If he's going to kill you, what do you think he'll do to me if he finds out?" Maka wheezes, her head spinning, but no longer from lack of oxygen.
Black Star abruptly stops his pacing and pins her with a serious look. "We better make sure that doesn't happen."
"So you'll keep my secret?" She asks, hoping against hope.
Black Star's eyes go heavenward for a long moment before speaking. "Damn it English, I love Soul, but I love you too, no matter your gender. I'll keep your secret, even if it's not the right thing to do."
Maka throws her arms around his neck and laughs with relief. Black Star freezes, his body is rigid. It takes him a minute before he softens and hugs her back.
"This is probably the strangest night of my life," He sighs letting her go.
"Well, it's not the strangest one of my life yet. And there's been quite a few so far," She says, throwing him a cheeky smile.
Black Star sinks onto the bed and cradles his head in his hands with groan.
"God almighty, I took you to a saloon."
Maka fell into the ebb and flow of ranch life. Some days were harder than others, but she learned to relish the challenges and soon found pride in her labors. Soul was an excellent teacher, his knowledge vast. He had a gentle way of guiding her, of showing her the beauty of this new world. Her guts seemed to twist more as time went by, the weight of her deception weighing more heavily as they grew closer.
Maka pushed her emotions down deep, as deep as the mud she walked through this hot and humid morning. Summer was in full swing now, July being stifling one minute, and then the summer storms drenching and chilling your bones the next. The rains had come last night, leaving in their wake mud as thick as gumbo in the yard. It made a popping squelching sound as her boots trudged through the grime. She had chores to do though, and as time passed, she has found it easier to just be. She no longer cared about keeping her clothes clean, or her hands blister-free. She actually took pride in her newfound lifestyle. It felt good to be connected to the earth and work alongside the changing of the seasons.
A low bawling snaps Maka from her reminiscing, a very big, very ugly white-faced cow is lumbering towards her at an alarming speed.
"Bloody hell!" Maka shouts as the cow stumbles to its knees right in front of her. Its hide is flecked with white foam and its soft brown eyes roll around wildly.
Despite the initial shock of a strange cow rushing into the yard, Maka steps forward her voice steady, calming.
"Hey, my bonnie girl, what's the matter?"
The cow sighs at the sound of her voice and keels over flat onto her side.
"Fuck!" Maka shouts, dropping to her knees in the mud. She looks around for help, but the barnyard is strangely quiet.
"What the hell are you cussing about Fancy Pants? Should I wash your mouth out with soap?" Soul laughs, poking his head out of the house.
At this moment, she has never been so happy to see Soul in her life. Soul's smile falters as he takes in the odd scene. He's next to her in a heartbeat, kneeling next to her.
"Are you hurt?" He asks feverishly, his hands grazing her arms, a habit he's come to do when worried for her safety.
"I'm fine."
Maka shakes her head, the cow laying next to them moaning pitifully. "What's wrong with her?"
Soul runs a knowing hand across her bald face and down her heaving side.
"She's in labor. She's trying to calve."
Maka's jaw slackens in surprise, her eyes taking in the struggling cow.
"Right now? Right here?"
"Yep, right here, right now, and it looks like she's having one hell of a time."
Without hesitation, Soul rolls up his shirt sleeve and inserts his arm all the way up to his elbow into the cow's nether reign. The sound is akin to that of the squelching mud.
"Is that normal?!" Maka gasps both horrified and intrigued.
Birth was one of those mysterious events she knew nothing about. Being a young lady and unmarried, it was impossible to ask such questions about it in England. Now though, she was about to witness it through the eyes of a man, without shame or embarrassment.
Soul removes his arm and it is coated in a thick, slimy fluid. Maka feels her stomach lurch at the unsightly mess, but she can not force herself to look away.
"Her baby is breached the wrong way."
"What does that mean? How do we help her?" Maka asks, her heart aching for the cow as she breathes rapidly.
"I'll have to turn her calve the right way or risk losing them both," He says much more calmly than the situation warrants.
"Can you get my gloves from the barn, that calf is slippery as shit, I can't get ahold of it."
Maka nods and springs to her feet. She knows absolutely nothing about birthing babies, but fetching gloves is something she can handle. Maka quickly returns from the barn, but stops short, her own knees nearly giving out.
Soul stands over the cow, his body long and lean, his booted feet braced apart. He is naked from the waist up, his chest strapped with muscle . . . And streaked with blood. The sight of blood propels her forward again, her purpose once more remembered.
Maka drops back next to him and he gloves up without words. He reaches back into the cow and more blood rushes out, splattering them both.
Sweat and blood glistened on his skin, matting the smattering of silver hair on his chest. Silver hair mixed with red fluid swirls around his nipples and trickles in slow rivulets down his belly to leave a spreading dark patch on the waistband of his jeans. He hooks his thumb in the cartridge belt he always wears, leather and guns slanting low across his hips. His dusty black hat is pulled down over a face that is all sharp planes and harsh angles as he concentrates. The hat's soft brim hoods his eyes. He reeks of blood and the animal odor of birth, yet Maka has never seen anything more beautiful or raw in her life.
"What can I do to help?" She whispers in awe.
He pushes his hat up with his thumb, the better to stare at her. His strange eyes—eyes smoldering and crimson, burns into her like smokey whiskey.
"Come closer, put your arm in with mine. I need a smaller set of hands." He commands softly.
Maka grimaces, feeling repulsed at the thought of being inside something so foul. The cow cries out though, and the feeling of pity for the animals outweighs the grittiness.
"It won't hurt her?" She asks, moving closer, preparing herself for the task at hand.
He grimaces. "No more than she's already hurting, Kid."
Maka swallows hard, trying not to cringe as she tentatively inserts first her fingers, then up to her wrist, and with one last desperate breath her whole arm. It is warm and it is awful. It smells even worse, even while holding her breath. Then she feels it, something deep within the cow ghosts across her fingertips, like the fluttering of the softest heartbeat.
"Oh." She breathes, her face beaming as she looks up at him.
They share a look before the moment is broken by the cow trashing out, her hoof catching Maka square in the thigh.
"Bloody hell!" Maka hisses through gritted teeth.
"Shit. Let's hurry and get this little doggie outta here. On my mark I want you to find what feels like a hoof and pull it down and out. Got it?"
Maka closed her eyes, partly to focus, partly to keep her breakfast down, as she feels around the insides of this poor cow. She finds it at last, so tiny it is almost impossible to comprehend, the smooth hard surface of a hoof.
"Found it."
"On the count of three I'll move its head, and you pull that leg out, and don't let go, no matter what it sounds or looks like."
He exhales sharply. Her heart kicks a ruckus in her chest, mingling fear and determination with her blood.
"One, two, three!"
Maka swallows a scream as she pulls with all her might, the internal tug of war holding fast. Then, just as strongly as the resistance had been there, it lifts, and a very large, very bloody creature is deposited into her lap with a wet plop.
Soul leans over and tears open the birthing sack and Maka blinks in surprise as the biggest pair of brown eyes open to greet her.
"Oh. Hi there." She says, at a loss for words.
The calf blinks slowly, clearing its eyes of goo.
The mother cow turns her head to look at her baby, sighs, and lays her head back down. She heaves one last breath, then goes completely still.
"Damn it." Soul curses bitterly, laying a hand on the now still cow's side. "You did good girl. We will take it from here."
Maka tries to snatch hold of his words and make sense of what he means, but it feels all jumbled. She looks down at the little calf in her lap. She's no expert on birth, but there's far too much blood. The little calf looks up at her like it's waiting for her to speak. To say something profound, to bring its mother back. She doesn't know what possesses her to do it, but she hugs the newborn to her chest tightly, her tears seeping out like a broken pitcher.
Maka looks up at Soul, his eyes are misty with unshed tears. All three of them sit under that blue endless sky, all of them orphans, all of them now together.
And the wind howls, as it always does.
A rooster crows nearby, and far off a bull bellows.
And the world keeps on turning... but these solemn three, sitting in the mud and blood together, make no earthly sound.
They remain as silent as the now still cow.
Maka sits cross-legged in the muddy yard beside the softly bleating calf, so newborn it is still steaming.
Soul had left a while ago, a team of horses dragging the mother cow away. He didn't say where he was taking her and she didn't ask.
Maka had found some clean burlap in the barn and had started rubbing down the little one, which she had been doing for hours now, encouraging her baby to stumble to its feet for its first steps. Maka is content just to sit and savor the sweet joy she feels as she watches the life come into the calf. The mud she sits in is cool, and goopy enough to stir with a stick. The yard smells of blood and manure. Smiling, Maka leans over and pats the baby's white face. "You did fine, lady. Just fine." The little cow licks and huffs and blinks her long white eyelashes. Cheif, the ever-curious dog sits next to Maka, tail wagging, watching the calf with just as much interest. The dog and calf touch noses as if saying hi and it makes Maka's heart swell.
A prairie chicken comes whirring across the yard, clucking madly. Maka looked up to see Soul riding across the hay meadow. Her chest tightens with the bittersweet ache that it always does every time she sees him. He reins up beside her and swings down from the saddle. He hands her a bottle, filled with milk as she pushed herself to her feet, shaking the mud off her pants.
The calf, as if she'd only been waiting for the man's arrival, lurches up onto its tiny hooves, bleating and nudging at Maka's side. Maka laughs, delighted in the little one's first steps.
"I wonder what possessed that heifer to come in off the range and into the yard to calve," Soul ponders out loud as he scratched the calf behind the ear.
Maka looked down at the spindly-legged creature, busily suckling milk from the bottle.
"I suppose to her it seemed like a safe place to have a baby."
"Just wish we didn't lose a good cow like that."
"Birth truly is a miracle though," Maka muses. "Today one life left, and another took its place. It was both humbling, sad, and beautiful."
Soul smiles softly at her, his face oddly warm. "Very wisely said, Kid. Maybe you'll make a fine cowboy yet."
Maka tries hard not to blatantly blush at his praise.
"This little doggie is lucky to have you as its new momma now." He teases lightly.
"Yes, I'll be your guardian." Maka coos and the little cow bleats happily, causing them both to laugh.
"Welcome to the world, little one. Don't worry, you won't be alone," Maka promises.
Soul nods his head in agreement and pulls her in for a one-armed hug. His voice suddenly cracks on the edges as he speaks.
"Here on Forsaken, none of us ever have to be alone, not when we have each other."
That evening Maka tucked the calf in the barn, promising to bring the ravenous creature another bottle in a few hours.
Cheif in all his scruffy ways, snuggled up with the calf, treating it like another big dog.
After dinner Maka went straight to bed, the day's events exhausting her beyond belief.
Outside the wind whistles and flutters the curtains of her half open window. Her skin feels hot and tight, the breeze doing nothing to cool her inner thoughts. Despite being bone-weary, sleep eludes her. She kicks off her blankets and rolls onto her side to gaze out the window. A full moon bathes everything in soft light.
She brushes loose hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand with a frustrated sigh. She notices that the back of her hand is still stained with blood. No amount of soap or washing off at the pump had helped clean today's events off of her.
What she wouldn't give for a bath right now...
Maka bolts up in bed, a brilliant idea propelling her to swing her bare feet to the cold wooden ranch-house floors.
Quietly she dresses, slipping her socks and boots on. She throws her window open wide, her eyes adjusting to the sting of the night air. The moon is full, it's so bright she could easily navigate without the need for a lantern.
This was reckless, this was insane, but at the moment it was worth it.
She could slip out, go take a much-needed bath at Blair's, and slip back into bed before anyone was even the wiser.
Soul would be livid if he ever found out she went back to the saloon in the middle of the night. She could hear him snoring softly down the hall though, he'd never know, she'd make it quick. She needed a bath more than anything, to wash the grime and hard work from her body, but to also soothe her spirits. Her life as a man was a wonderful experience, but she missed the little things sometimes. Like soap, clean hair, and not wreaking of a cow.
Deftly Maka slips out her window and tiptoes across the front porch roof. She knows her brashness should bother her more than it does, but a small trill runs down her skin as she makes it to the lattice undetected. Maka peeks over the side in surprise as the rosebush below shakes and curses softly. Maka peers in the dark, easily making out the unmistakable form of Black Star as he without hesitation scales the lattice.
"Beautiful evening for a stroll," Maka whispers, nearly causing the man to lose his footing and fall back to the bushes below.
"Christ English, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?" He whisper yells as he accepts her proffered hand. She hauls him up onto the roof before she flashes him a wicked grin.
"I could ask you the same thing friend. What are you doing sneaking into the house at this house?"
Black Star clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the turn in questioning. As if to embarrass him further, a small lantern is lit, illuminating Tsubaki's window behind them.
She pins him with a knowing look and he folds his hands over his broad chest.
"How about you don't ask me what I'm doing and in return I won't ask you? Deal?"
She grins at him and extends her hand. They shake on it there on the roof, in the middle of the night, under the stars and God himself.
Maka can't help chuckle as she climbs down the lattice to the ground below at the bizarre situation.
"Be safe English." Black Star calls softly.
"You be safe." Maka quips. She can hear him groan from somewhere above, part out of humor part humiliation. She grins like a fool as she sneaks across the yard to the barn.
He can feel the prairie grass. He can feel the springy, green, and flagrant grass as he runs barefoot. The ground hums with life, with danger, with the coming of a thunderstorm. He needs to get home before the storm hits, but as he looks around, he has no idea where he is. Suddenly he is no more than a child, bared before the brutality of the prairie.
A woman rises from the rippling grass, like the parting of water. The grass seethes and boils around her, the wind blowing her silver hair across her face. He cannot see her face, but he knows her.
"Mom." He tries to say, but his voice is ripped away by the rushing wind. He tries to wade towards her, swimming in an ocean of deep swirling grass. It grabs at his legs and threatens to pull him down, to suffocate him. A strong hand grabs his shoulder, bringing him to his feet, saving him from drowning.
When he looks, the woman is gone, nothing remains but a lone hunting spear, planted into the ground, like an out of place and twisted tree. A few strands of silver hair remain, woven through the branches, splattered in crimson.
Soul struggles against the hand, trying to make it towards the tree.
"Be still." The owner of the hand demands. The voice is gruff, familiar, and brings Soul to the brink of death.
Soul looks up into the face of a man he thought he'd never see again. His cheekbones are high, painted red with war paint, his face shadowed in a scowl of disappointment.
"Why do you struggle Soul Eater? Where you not happy in our world?"
"This is not my world!" Soul growls, trying with all his might to be free from the warrior's iron grip.
"That is no longer your world either," he says, pointing to the twisted tree. "You do not belong anywhere. You are Soul Eater, a Two-Feet among strangers. You should have stayed with us. No one will accept you." The man let's go of his arm and melts back into the prairie with a wild whoop.
Saul's haze goes back to the tree.
Maka is there now, sitting high in the branches of the tree. Those green eyes, the color of green earth please with him
Then the tree begins to consume that face with the green eyes. Slowly taking his body, absorbing like quicksand, the flesh and bone of his friend.
Soul struggles towards the tree, his heart racing as the Kid dissapears. He has to save them.
The tree begins to seethe and shake, wailing, echoing the sad cries of his mother. The grass, like a slithering serpent, has taken hold of him again, pulling him down. It drags him deeper into its embrace, but no matter how deep or dark it becomes, he can still hear the cries of the tree.
Soul wakes up, drenched in sweat and breathing hard. He clutches a hand to his thundering heart. He closes his eyes, trying to recall the dream, the details fuzzy around the edges, the dregs of sleep clinging like the balmy air of his room. He slowly opens his eyes after a while, the picture of his mother gone from his memory. It's not an important detail, but he wishes he could remember her, what her face looked like. Soul shakes the cobwebs from his vision and leaves his bed with a creaking of wood and joints.
It's late, the night is silent, but the moon washes his room in a pale light.
He pulls his clothes on, his mind is still absent. There is no going back to sleep tonight. He'd warm up a bottle and go feed the calf, let the Kid sleep.
He hesitates in the hallway, staring outside of the kid's door. The Kid is safe and sleeping, he knows this. He grimaces at his own insecurity though and decides to just peek in real quick. He knows the kid is fine, but after his dream, he feels unnerved.
The Kid's bed is empty.
Fear squeezes his chest, knocking the air from him. His boots are gone, and his window is wide open. Soul grabs his pistols from the hook and thunders down the stairs. Silently he slips onto the porch and melts into night, pistol drawn, hackles raised. The yard is dead quiet.
All he can think about is the Kid being stolen away into the night. It hasn't happened in these parts in years, but it was still possible. Soul always remembers the bad, he's grown to almost expect it from people now. From people who didn't belong to the ranch. People who weren't family.
Soul follows the tiny boot prints that couldn't be anyone else's but the Kid's. There doesn't seem to be any sign of a struggle. They lead to the barn. He sidles in the barn, not knowing what he'll find. Other than the damn calf and dog sleeping together in a pile of fur and hooves there isn't anything amiss. Until he noticed the Kid's tack and horse are missing. Spinning on his heels, all thought of stealth fleeing, he storms out into the yard, inspecting the muddy horse tracks left behind. They went in the direction of town.
Boiling with fury, he grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw so tight, it hurts. The damn Kid had run off to town for some fun, and he'd bet his last few paychecks he knew exactly where to.
His guts churning with anger, Soul saddles up his horse and heads towards town. Hell-bent on teaching the foolish brat a lesson he'll never forget!