Snake Skin | John Marston

Black Stallion - II

The next morning, Y/N jolted awake to a strong smell of smoke. Blinking against the brightness, she slowly opened her eyes, squinting at the figure sitting by her fire. The flames, which she could barely manage to stoke, were roaring, sending a bit of smoke curling into the air and her direction.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she struggled to her feet and made her way to the fire. It was John. He sat with his back turned, but he didn't need to look back to know she was there; he could feel her presence.

"You're awake," he stated calmly, a hint of relief in his voice.

"Yeah, I am," she replied, forcing herself to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"I've been sitting here for a bit. The thought of you not waking up crossed my mind a few too many times, Miss," he added, glancing over his shoulder.

"Not yet," she joked, managing a weak smile as she stepped closer to him.

"I told Arthur about you. He said something about getting you a new horse so you can travel again," he said, his tone lightening.

"Thank you, scarface," she said as she slowly sat down next to him, feeling the warmth of the fire seep into her bones.

John shot her a faux annoyed expression. "You were better when you were sleeping," he teased, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made her heart flutter.

Y/N released a fake laugh, but it faded quickly as she turned her gaze to the fire. "You went all the way to Armadillo and I wasn't there. I'm sorry," she admitted, the weight of her absence hanging in the air between them.

"No, I'm sorry I let things get out of control back at camp. Dutch ain't said a word about this to me or Arthur," John said, his voice heavy with guilt.

"He's got Micah now," Y/N added, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone. John nodded in agreement, knowing well how Micah's presence complicated things.

"When Arthur gets me... if Arthur gets me a new horse, I will move to Armadillo, John," she said, her gaze drifting to his hand as he poked the fire with a stick.

"You're always quick to leave," he mumbled, a mix of admiration and frustration in his voice.

"I... I know. You should come with me," she urged, her eyes pleading.

John looked her in the eyes, surprise etched on his face. "Don't leave just yet, Y/N. I'll figure this out, and when I do, you'll be able to come back to us. Then we'll all leave for Armadillo... or someplace else."

The weight of their unspoken desires hung between them. In truth, John would have dropped everything to leave with Y/N right then and there if it were that simple. But it was more complicated than he could ever explain. They both knew that, and it left an ache in the pit of his stomach.

"I can't wait forever, John. I'm an outlaw. We're all outlaws, and time... it's like a ticking bomb," Y/N said, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of her circumstances.

John nodded, hesitantly reaching for her hand. To his relief, she didn't pull away; instead, their fingers intertwined, and a small smile crept onto both their faces.

"I want to trust your plan, John, but so far the chances of Dutch accepting me back are lookin' real bad," she added, her tone turning serious.

"I said I'll figure it out," he replied, his expression hardening as determination washed over him.

"Figure it out then," she urged, holding his gaze.

John sighed and looked away, frustration etched across his features. "It ain't easy when you're this stupid."

"John..." she called, drawing his attention back to her. "...you ain't so bad, but I think you should go back soon."

"I don't want to leave you here all by yourself," he replied, reluctantly letting go of her hand and rising to his feet.

"I've been alone all my life. This is good for me," she said, looking up at him with an unwavering resolve. But the words hung in the air, clearly not what he wanted to hear. The worry etched on his face spoke volumes about the turmoil in his heart.

"John," she called after him, rising to meet him eye to eye. "You know where to look if I disappear again, right? We'll be alright."

He didn't reply, just nodded solemnly, as if acknowledging an unspoken bond between them. Y/N patted him on the shoulder and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, Marston. Get back to your people. Get back to your son."

With a heavy sigh, John turned to leave. Y/N watched him go, her heart heavy but filled with hope. It was a bittersweet moment; he was leaving her behind this time, but she found solace in the thought that if fate truly existed, their paths would cross again. As he walked away, the shadows of the swamp deepened around her, yet the warmth of his presence lingered, promising that this wasn't the end.

A few hours later, Arthur Morgan arrived at her hideout, leading a stunning light-dappled gray Mustang behind him. Y/N's heart raced as she realized the horse was for her. This was her ticket back to freedom. She wouldn't have to rely on John, Charles, or anyone else to bring her food or supplies. She could travel again.

"Woah, there, slow up," Arthur called out as he reined in his horse, trotting closer to her makeshift camp. He dismounted, expertly tying both horses to a nearby tree before turning to face her.

"Hey, Arthur," Y/N greeted, a smile breaking through her weariness as she walked towards him.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, concern etched across his rugged face.

"I feel like I look," she replied with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"You must be feeling like shit," he joked, crossing his arms with a knowing grin.

"Always one with the jokes, aren't you?" she quipped back, her spirits lifting at his familiar banter.

"Just one thing we have in common, besides being bad people," he added, his tone lightening the air around them.

"Can't disagree there," Y/N said, turning her attention to the gray horse. The Mustang stood patiently, its light gray coat adorned with pale spots that gave it a striking appearance, almost white from a distance. Its long white tail swayed gently, and the mane flowed like silk. Y/N stepped closer, reaching out to stroke the horse's neck, feeling an immediate connection.

"He's alright," Arthur said with a grin, moving closer to the horses. "He ain't gonna replace the one you had, but he most certainly can try."

Y/N smiled as she caressed the Mustang's pink snout, feeling its warm breath against her palm. "No, he's fine. Where did you get him, Arthur?"

"Found him out in the wild. He's a wild Mustang, only I've been on top of this one. Was hard to track too. He's got spirit, just like you," Arthur explained, admiration in his voice.

"Thank you, Arthur. I owe you," she said, turning to face him, her eyes filled with gratitude.

"You do," he replied, mounting his horse. As he turned to ride away, he added with a smirk, "I'll hold you to it."

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with appreciation as Arthur galloped off, leaving her alone with the Mustang. The air was thick with the scent of earth and grass, and the sun began to sink low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground. She felt a sense of determination growing inside her; with this new horse, she wouldn't just survive—she would thrive.