NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY: RDR2

8. THAT VANISHED ABODE

"I dwell with a strangely aching heart

In that vanished abode there far apart"

― Robert Frost

"Don't you be leavin' till I get back." Cripps said as he pulled himself up onto the wagon, he had told me there was some important business that he had to attend to before I set off.

I was packing my saddle bags for another hunting trip, Cripps had fashioned me a leather drag bag to tie to the saddle, so that Aine could pull the bigger pelts behind her rather than bare the weight of them on her back. I was dubious as to how effective it would be, but Cripps was clearly trying to mend bridges. It had been a few days since I'd returned back from Arthur's camp and we had slowly fallen back into our normal routine. Cripps had stopped tiptoeing around me as if I were going to shoot at his feet.

I waved him off and watched as he disappeared into the forest, glad to have a moment to myself. I decided to bathe in the river, for what was perhaps the last time. We had both agreed it was time to move, and although we'd had no other visitors since the night of the ambush, we still found we were constantly looking over our shoulders. Cripps suggested we would sleep better if we knew no-one could find us. I hadn't found it in me to tell him that I'd promised our location to a band of outlaws.

It was my job to go and scout the new location, I had my eye on a beautiful opening by a cliff in the East Grizzlies. It was out of the way enough to not be stumbled upon but close enough to a town that we wouldn't be cut off completely.

I knew the area well; it was my home. I'd grown up in a little house in those hills, I'd buried my family in those hills. No matter how far away I had travelled, my heart had always remained in that moss covered home. I had only been back to see it a few times since the day I'd lost them, it seemed to have become a popular attraction for travellers and religious folk alike. The last time I visited someone had left a peculiar symbol above the door. Part of me wanted to put up a sign, tell people that this was no ritual site, no supernatural mystery. It was just a home that belonged to a family that deserved more than they got, and then it was left to rot without them.

I packed warm clothing despite the sunny weather, not wishing to make the same mistake twice, and got to crushing flowers together to make bait. I wanted to keep busy while Cripps was gone, otherwise he would insist on doing these things for me upon his return. He was not gone for long though; the sun had not even reached its high point in the sky before I heard the creaking wheels of the wagon coming from behind me. I turned to look at him, raising my hand to block out the sun, and noticed that he wasn't alone. There something sitting on the wagon with him, wriggling and clambering onto his lap. I saw him give the thing a light shove. Cripps had brought a dog.

"Who's this?" I asked, half running towards them as he pulled into camp. Cripps climbed down and called for the dog to follow.

"Young fella in Strawberry has been trying to get rid of him for weeks, said he would give to me for cheap in return for some leather." he said "I'm not keen on the damn things myself, but..." he trailed off, shrugging. I kneeled down to the dog's level and introduced myself, it took only a few moments before I was pinned to the ground.

"Jesus, he's not small!" I laugh, playfully swatting at the dog as he tried to lick my face.

"He's a wolfhound, Irish. Apparently, they get even bigger."

"Oh, you'll be as big as a bear!" I coo, sitting up to run my hand down his body. He sat next to me and stuck his enormous tongue out with glee "Does he have a name?"

"Rooster." Cripps says, I raise an eyebrow. "Howls at the ass-crack of dawn apparently."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll be fun." I reply, grinning at the thought of Cripps' alcohol fuelled comas being cut short.