The Wolf

Wrong Turn

Elizabeth had felt her fair share of fear in her life. She had seen many gruesome things, and had even caused some of that gore herself. Killing someone was never her immediate priority. She'd rather hide and flee, throw whoever wanted her head off her trail long enough for them to give up and move on.

But she already knew that this particular man wasn't about to make it that easy for her.

So far she'd calculated that he had at least three men under his command. That wasn't a lot, but just like with the other men before, four against one was never good odds.

She could risk her neck and her horse's legs and jump into the river, but that fall alone, if it didn't kill them, would most likely deal enough damage that she'd still be captured anyway. She had no more tricks, no more bluffs, and no way out.

She jerked Alois' reins, and she flung forward, body slamming into the black horse that the blue-eyed rider was sat upon. He shot, perhaps unintentionally as he was knocked to the ground, but the bullet didn't even so much as graze Elizabeth as she jumped over him, forcing him to hastily roll out of the way.

There were no more shots, and she didn't hear the thundering of hooves hunting her down. She dared to look back as Alois weaved in between the trees, most definitely surprised to find that she wasn't being pursued. She halted her golden mare, and turned her around, listening.

There was nothing - no hooves on leaves, no gunshots, no voices. There was only the sound of chirping birds and scuttling creatures.

She shifted in her saddle and choked when a hand was wrapped around her throat. She was allowed to breathe, but with those wolfish deep blue eyes staring straight into her own, she might as well have been in an actual choke hold.

"Who are you?"

The question was hushed, and the man narrowed those entrancing blues before removing his hand. "Arthur Morgan. And you're Elizabeth Wolf. I'm afraid that I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me."

The red head scowled almost immediately. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Morgan. Not with you, not with Dutch. I go where I want and do what I want."

She was challenging him, and maybe after almost making his horse trample his head in, that was a bad idea.

But he backed off and let out a soft condescending laugh.

"Listen, I admire your courage, lady, I do, but Dutch won't take no for an answer. So you can keep runnin', but you should know that at least one of us will have to keep an eye on you."

He turned his horse to leave, but Elizabeth grabbed ahold of his reins before he could make it too far.

Fire burned in those hazel green eyes, and she stared him down as she spat out her next words.

"You can try. He can try. But I don't plan on just joining a gang, especially when I don't have a reason to. You threatened me no less. And you can tell that to Van der Linde too."

Elizabeth released Arthur's horse, but he sat there a moment longer, giving the woman a side eye that would have made quite literally any other lady fall to her knees.

"Well then I suggest you -"

"Mr. Morgan."

Oh, thank God.

Elizabeth had never been happier to hear that man's voice in her entire life. "Micah." The relief in her voice had Arthur almost spinning around in his saddle. "Wait, hold on, I'm sorry. You know this young lady?"

The narcissistic cowboy chuckled as he slowed Baylock into a full stop, resting on the stallion's neck almost smugly. "Maybe I do. Is that a problem?"

Elizabeth looked uneasily between the two men, trying to piece together what was happening right in front of her. She had known Micah Bell since she was sixteen, and though he'd practically raised her, they had taken on a more "friendly" relationship since she had turned eighteen. She cared for him greatly since he had helped her survive, so the least she could do for him was allow him to give her more friendly attention.