Snake Skin | John Marston

Sweet Girls Swaying

After a while, Y/N finally returned to camp, her mind buzzing with thoughts of John. She had promised him they would talk about whatever was brewing between them, but as she wandered through the bustling camp, her eyes searched in vain for him. Instead, she spotted Tilly Jackson, a glimmer of hope igniting within her as she recalled the offer Tilly had made regarding her hair.

"Hey there, Tilly," Y/N called out, striding toward the young woman who was scrubbing clothes on a wooden washboard.

"There she is!" Tilly exclaimed, pausing her work to flash a bright smile. She wiped her wet hands on her dress, leaving behind streaks of soapy water. "I was starting to think you forgot about me!"

"Not a chance," Y/N replied with a chuckle. "I'm here to take you up on that offer about my hair."

"About time!" Tilly laughed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I thought I'd have to chase you down. You've been busy, I reckon?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Y/N said, glancing around the camp, her heart still longing to find John.

"Alright then," Tilly replied, her demeanor shifting to that of a focused stylist. "You just sit down, and I'll go find a pair of scissors."

Y/N nodded and settled into a wooden chair near Tilly's tent, the scent of fresh laundry mingling with the earthy aromas of the camp. As Tilly rummaged for her tools, Y/N felt a flicker of anticipation. This could be a fresh start—a small change to match the shifting tides of her life.

A few minutes passed, and Tilly returned, wielding two pairs of scissors that glinted ominously in the fading sunlight. Y/N gulped at the thought of someone tampering with her hair, a wave of nervousness washing over her as she instinctively looked down at the ground, avoiding her own reflection.

Noticing the apprehension etched on Y/N's face, Tilly chuckled and rolled her eyes, her voice light and reassuring. "Don't worry, Y/N. This is easy."

"Sure," Y/N mumbled under her breath, feeling like The Golden Cobra, a notorious outlaw unafraid of bullets, now quaking at the thought of a simple haircut.

Just then, Abigail strolled over, a warm smile gracing her face as she settled beside Y/N. She cast a curious glance at Tilly's scissors and then back at Y/N, gauging the situation. "What's going on here?"

"Is it alright?" Y/N asked, nervously pointing at her hair as though it were a wild beast.

Abigail chuckled softly, nodding her approval. "Looks fine to me."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, her posture relaxing as she slouched slightly in her chair. As she glanced at Abigail, she couldn't help but study her face—the woman who had first captured John's heart, or so Y/N assumed, blissfully unaware of the complexities of their past.

"Are you well, Y/N?" Abigail asked, noticing the distant look in her eyes.

"I'm fine, just thinkin'..." Y/N replied, her voice trailing off as she pondered the tangled emotions swirling in her mind.

After several minutes of lighthearted banter among the women, Tilly finally declared her masterpiece complete. She handed Y/N a small mirror, and Y/N looked at her reflection, taking in the fresh cut with a hint of hesitation. "Thanks, Tilly," she said, a genuine smile breaking through.

"No big deal," Tilly replied, her tone cheerful as she excused herself, leaving Y/N and Abigail together.

"Is it alright, Abigail?" Y/N turned to the other woman, her brow furrowed with a slight worry.

Abigail took a moment to scrutinize Y/N's hair once more before giving her a reassuring thumbs-up. Y/N sighed with relief, her heart lifting a little. She then headed toward her tent, feeling the weight of fatigue settling in. Once inside, she quickly hopped onto her pallet, the familiar scent of worn leather and wood enveloping her. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of peace, hoping the night would bring clarity to her restless thoughts.