The Wolf

Broken Crown

Elizabeth awoke to the sound of chirping and the sound of horses and wagons on the dirt road. There was some chatter downstairs and she rolled over, wanting to just sleep through the day and next night.

She felt warmer than usual though, and she could have chalked it up to staying inside rather than out in the forest, but it wasn't unwelcome. She curled into it, about to fully fall back asleep when she felt a hand slide over her bare back.

Her eyes immediately flew open, and she sat up, hair wild and frizzy, meaning that at some point she had to have taken out the braids. Or maybe - he did.

She didn't remember at first what had happened the night before, but the longer she stared down at the man in her bed, it slowly all came flooding back, causing her face to bloom with color.

She had let him give her pleasure, though he had refused to let her reciprocate. She could remember the feeling of his tongue so deeply inside of her.

She swallowed thickly and got up, gathering her mind and her things, throwing on her clothes faster than she ever had before. Why had she allowed that? Why had he spent the night? Why was he still here?

Those were questions she didn't absolutely need an answer to, so she shoved them aside as she hastily removed herself from the hotel, swinging herself into Buttercup's saddle and almost running over a few people and a dog in her urge to get the hell out of dodge.

She couldn't get mixed up in whatever Dutch had going on. She couldn't afford to have any more enemies than she already did, and she could have punched herself for letting him do that to her so late into the night.

But then, that awful feeling of guilt swirled in her stomach as she lost focus on the road before her. Maybe he was just trying to lure her in, but he hadn't done anything truly wrong - he was sweet and honest and besides his obvious lack of personal space ... he seemed genuinely decent.

There was a chance his gang wasn't that bad - maybe they weren't the outlaws that she had coined them to be in her mind. She hadn't realized she'd stopped her horse until she no longer felt the wind in her tangled hair. Buttercup had stopped without the direction of her rider, opting instead to graze idly around the river before her.

Elizabeth sighed, taking the moment to wash off her face and brush out her ratty locks of hair. She sat there, simply watching the fish flop around the surface of the water as she drew in her diary. She had an affinity for bears and wolves, the latter probably a bit ironic. But it was nice, enjoying the warming day as her horse grazed beside her.

——

She had lost track of the day, made even more prominent when the only thing that knocked her out of her daydreaming was the raucous snarl of a cougar.

Elizabeth was immediately on her feet, cursing herself when she moved to remove her Springfield rifle from her saddle, only to find that the mustang had already been spooked away. She had only her revolver, so if she was going to survive this attack, she'd have to act with nearly one hundred percent accuracy.

The cougar didn't immediately pounce though. It prowled along the edge of the forest, dull eyes flashing yellow as the setting sun cast just enough light on its fur for Elizabeth to make out where its head should be. So she aimed, but that's when the animal chose to charge.

A bullet was shot, but it didn't slow the damn thing down one bit. The red head reacted as quickly as she could, using her arm to hold off the cat's teeth from sinking into her throat. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold it back for very long though, especially when its claws were already shredding through her sleeves.

There was a long howl somewhere nearby.

The cougar paused for only a moment - but that was all Elizabeth needed. She stabbed it in the chest as hard as she could and twisted, almost instantly stopping its heart. She wrestled the carcass off of her own chest and laid there heaving out much needed breaths.

She turned her head and squinted, trying to make sure that what she was seeing was correct.

Elizabeth had seen plenty of wolves in her life, and had even hunted her fair share of them. But this one wasn't like the common grey timber wolf. It was massive, all white, with eyes so dark they could have been black. And it only stood there watching, unmoving.

Even if she was able to, Elizabeth knew that she wouldn't have tried to kill it. Something about it was mesmerizing - maybe the unblemished white fur, maybe the unblinking black eyes.

But then there was a shout from the tree line, and the animal had already fled into the darkening skyline.

Elizabeth stood warily, hazel eyes meeting caramel. "Who are you?" It was asked sternly, but somehow still not unkind. She took a moment to respond, clearing her throat as she stood, attempting to dust off the drying blood on the front of her white blouse.

"Elizabeth Wolf," she replied finally. "Don't worry. I'm just passing through."

"Wait. You're Elizabeth? There's a lot of hushed talk about you, you know. I think you should come with me."

The red head might have lost her hold on her tongue, but in the end, she was so sick of running that she really no longer cared where she ended up - with the O'Driscolls, Van der Linde, or hell, even dead.

So she shrugged and whistled for Buttercup, loading up the dead cougar with a grunt. "Fine. I'm done running. At least tell me what gang this is." She led the mare behind her, already starting through the woods with the man hot on her heels.

"Van der Linde."

Great.

"I'm Lenny, by the way. Lenny Summers."

Elizabeth hummed, fatigue winning out over weariness once the camp as a whole came into view. And it was, dare she say it, kind of homely. There was even a kid running around.

"That tent there in the center is Dutch's. He's not back yet, but you'll know when he is." Lenny kept talking, walking the lady around camp to introduce her to the people who had apparently been talking about her. She still didn't know why, but she would figure that out later when she could force herself to look their leader in the eye again.

For now, she sat at the edge of the camp, once more sketching in her diary. It was night now, and the people were starting to settle in for bed. There were still some of them roaming around - probably drunk - and one moron who kept babbling nonsense, even in his sleep.

She was content though, for the time being. No one had been rude to her, or even mistrusting. She was fed and even welcomed. It was almost unsettling.

She leaned her head back against the tree she sat beside with a sigh, pen slipping from her fingers as she mindlessly counted the stars above her. She'd been running for so long that she had forgotten what a home felt like, what it meant to feel safe.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

Her attention was diverted to the front of camp when she noticed an all too familiar albino horse trot in. It was late, and judging by what Lenny had said, Dutch rarely ever left the place. Not to mention that his lover was still very much awake, having had waited on him to come home.

It didn't exactly bother Elizabeth either. A man that good looking was bound to have had something like a lover. She had no qualms with laying with someone if no feelings were involved, and she was fairly certain that they both regarded each other like pieces of meat.

But that just made it a little more fun.

She'd interrogate him in the morning, but for now she was just fine getting lost inside her head, wondering about things she had no way of knowing until she asked.

"Miss Wolf. Mind if I have a word?"

Ah, she knew that voice. She slid over some so the man had a place to sit beside her.

"Not at all, Mr. Morgan."