Know My Name - a RDR2 Story

Speckled Palms and Purple Nails

Let me tell you a story about a young woman who fell into two crowds: the good and the bad.
Of course, there are pros and cons to each category, but I suppose it only depends on the way you look at it...

Sorry I took so long to write this. Life's a bitch.

TW!: use of alcohol, knives, guns, blood

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The night was a haze that flipped over Kam's brain like pages in a book. She couldn't remember anything after she hitched the stolen Clydesdale to a post. Sean had pulled her and Arthur over for a drink, and she remembered that all three of them indulged. There were drinks going around the entire table--mostly beer and whiskey. Her head was pulsating with sharp pains.

Kam sat up from her place on the ground. God- where was she?

She must've fallen asleep in the dirt, her face down in dry soil, leaves, and twigs. Her black hair was greasier than oil, and it allowed for nature to stick into the strands of hair and embed themselves within her roots. Her typically pale skin was coated in light layers of dirt, tinting her white skin a shade of light brown. She'd need a bath for sure.

Kam was laying on her chest, and when she tried to push herself up by her elbows and hands, a wave of pain rushed through her arms. Her fingers tingled. She twisted her body around so she was able to sit on her butt, and when she did, she was finally aware of her surroundings. Mattock Pond was at her feet. "Oh, God." She grumbled, disappointed in herself for allowing such reckless behavior to take place.

Her fingers vibrated now. The tingling increased and it felt like her hands were shaking by how intensely they shivered. Kam's hands were the dirtiest part of her body. There were brown dots and splotches covering the majority of her palms and fingers. The majority of her left index finger was a light shade of tawny brown, almost as if she had dipped it in mud at some point. But she could focus on her skin discoloration later--right now, she needed to get back to camp.

With legs as heavy as lead, one would think that it'd be near impossible to stand up straight. While standing up straight was out of the question, Kam did end up on both feet which, in her opinion, was an accomplishment. She whistled for Brutus twice. Apparently, the Clydesdale she had stolen last night liked her, because not only did Brutus come to his rider's call, but so did the white horse with no name.

Brutus reached her first and immediately began nudging her hand with his large nose, slobbering her palm in the damp substance that drooled from his nostrils. "Hey, boy." Her throat was raspy and rough--probably from drinking the night before. The Clydesdale met her next and cautiously did the same thing Brutus did. "An' you... you are new."

The mare had a long, uncut mane that draped over her head and down her neck, stopping just before the shoulder of the massive animal. Hair layered the hooves to the point where they looked like fur boots. Kind brown eyes shone through the plain white mane, contrasting with the pure color of her coat and intimidating stature. Spots of Mahagony red splattered along the Clydesdale's croup like freckles on clean skin. She must've missed that detail last night due to the darkening sky.

"I think, 'fore I choose a name, we need t' get t' know each other." She whispered to the mare before turning to her stallion. "That alright, boy? You mind if I ride her fer a minute?"

The answer Brutus gave her was not in the form of English words, but instead whinnied like a foal. "Go t' camp, ya Brute." Brutus brayed again before galloping off. Brutus tended to sulk a lot when Kam refused to give him the attention he wanted. He was like a child in a way.