A New Beginning

Following the Railroad West

You've been tantivy traversing for hours on end a dreary terrain, of which you are but dimly aware. A dour and taciturn Arthur is in control of the reins, while an equally dismal you cling on for dear life. Only before acutely sharp turns or steep descents does gallop slow to canter or a rare trot and yet, on account of Arthur's equestrian prowess, neither you nor the equestrian himself nor steed are ever in danger. Following each bend and every curve, a dull landscape devoid of color and life opens up before you far and wide where everything looks the same. The same as a thousand years ago, the same a thousand years hence.

The day goes by on horseback, much like yesterday – aside from the pace, that is. Unlike yesterday, however, the conversation is stale and awkward. Aside from enquiring about your arm, Arthur has barely spoken to you and every time you try to bring up events of which there are unsaid words he steers the conversation towards innocuous matters, often of the observational kind. Not that there is much to voice in that regard.

As the shadows draw long and thin, heavy clouds come gliding in above your heads, like a specter of darkness and gloom bringing forth a foreboding sense of impending dismay, and moreover, a chilling gale that nibbles your skin and drains heat from your very core. Arthur pulls the reins to don the coat that had kept you warm that night in in Annesburg but alas, you have to make do with a mulled brew in Hamish's satchel to thaw your blood. You rub your gloved hands together and long for the wool-woven garbs in your travel bag.

Sunless day turns blustery evening, which turns to ice-cold, windless night. Misery me, how cold it is! You huddle close to the campfire for warmth yet you can barely sleep a wink. Come morning, the air is just as shrewd though it's sunny at least. Another day in this barren land of serpent roads and steep cliffs abraded by wind and rain awaits. Another freezing day in the company of a churlish, ill-tempered outlaw doing his dandiest to avoid not only your words but your eyes as well.

Travel is slower today, unfortunately. In consequence of the abundance of austere, windswept rock, clues to Nevans' whereabouts are few and far between, and there isn't much else to do but to follow the railroad west in hopes that he is doing the same. Not even an hour into the day, Arthur pulls the reins to a halt for the third time and leaps out of the saddle while silently gesturing for you to stay put. He shortly returns without as much as a word.

"Anything?"

He shakes his head and swiftly mounts the saddle.

"Next time I'll go with you."

He cranes his neck so that his chin aligns with his shoulder. "What for?"

"For one-" The sudden shift from standstill to trot makes for a brief pause in your response. "I'd like to stretch my legs too."

The manhunter steers his attention to the road ahead. "You want to stretch your legs, or you want me to find the feller who killed yer pa'n held a knife to yer throat?"

"I want to keep my circulation flowing."

He lets out a mirthless, almost taunting laugh. "Oh, believe me little Princess. When we catch this feller, your blood's gonna be pumpin' all right."

You bite back a rejoinder. Partly because he didn't exactly invite you to tag along on this manhunt and you don't want to further sour the already dismal mood. Mostly because you fail to think of a clever one. Though his sallies aren't intentionally malicious, he nonetheless knows just how to vex you to the point of nearly yearning to claw his eyes out. "What's with you today?" you innocuously ask. "Woke up on the wrong side of the campfire or something?"

"No. Just tired of chasin' this scoundrel, that's all."

"That's all you're tired of?"

A willfully drawn-out sigh effectively conveys waning patience, and furthermore, forewarns you of a pending response that is likely to hurt but darn if he doesn't take his sweet time steering the reins before he can be bothered to speak.