Damning Trials | Javier Escuella

4: A Taste of Action

There was a grunt came out of her mouth. She took much effort to open her eyelids when it felt as if her head was banged by a hammer.

"She's awake, folks! She's awake!"

She wished the muttering voices belonged to the angels that had taken her up to the afterlife, but gods—she wished she was right. As light purged around the area, the view from her sight came to clear. Lin was greeted by a familiar face, one that she was in delight to see.

"You good?"

"Arthur..?? Wh—" she cut her own sentence as she slowly sat up. She held her temple firmly, trying to fix the wobbling ground even though she was settled down. Bandage was wrapped around her left shoulder, tight and sure it wasn't coming off. As the view was getting more and more clear, figures started to approach the spot she was at. Her eyes met one of them. She sighed. "Should I ask?"

"Mister Escuella brought you here severely wounded," Dutch explained. "Luckily, Miss Grimshaw here patched you up pretty good."

Dutch, Arthur, Hosea, and Javier, and the rest were more than she didn't even bother to ask. She thought Javier had dumped her in the river that moment she cursed him out of her pride. She should show him her gratitude, but the barrier of her ire didn't quite seem to fall. There was no pleasure in being rescued by vermins. Lin turned to the woman who was known as Miss Grimshaw near the tent, who she quickly nodded to and said, "Thank you."

"What happened, Lin?" asked Hosea.

Lin's stare sharpened that if the grass could talk, they'd protest of the burning glare. Her grip tightened before she lifted her head. Her lungs were burning with despair: something she had never felt. "You remember those Lemoyne Raiders we came across, Arthur?"

Arthur's brows sharpened as he let his crossed arms down. "What of 'em?"

She scoffed. "Looks like they weren't very much pleased to know that we killed some of their boys..." Lin's head shook. She couldn't process it all. Silence came to her dearly fast. Eyes became blank. Her possessions and years worth of collecting sacred—immeasurable—goods went to waste. Went to dust. Damn the world, she'd shoot them. She'd shoot every each one of them, bleed them dry. "They burned my place."

"Jesus..."

All eyes were in shock. As they were exchanging glances, waiting for her next explanation, Lin pressed her lips. It was too much. Too much for her to handle. What had she done to deserve this? Her head shook. "All those hunting years; all those things I've collected and cherish with all my life: gone to ashes!" Her eyes were blurry, and the pain in her body didn't make her to calm. "Now... I have nothing! And worse, they've taken him..."

"Who?" asked Dutch.

"Ein..."

"Who is Ein?"

"My goddamn horse!" Her voice rising as her lips pressed. Though limbs aching, her fists ignored the clench. "I swear—if they hurt him—"

"Miss Ovana, we will help you get Ein back," said Dutch.

She went mute when he courageously approached, placing his hand on her shoulder. She should warn him to be cautious about being near her, but the chances of him being frightened was nearing none. Lin was unsure. Unsure if their help was even worth taking.

Unlike what the Pinkertons had stated about Dutch van der Linde, she might have judged them blind. Although she might be the one, considering how she thought his aid was most heartwarming at first sight. But she didn't like to believe the leader of the gang was as bad as the law had depicted.

Ein, she thought. My boy.

A companion better than humans. She'd burn the world if anything happened to him. More so, if anyone dared to touch.