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THE SECOND the sugary, saccharine scent of half-ripened plums stopped hanging in the leaden air around you, you let out a burdened breath to let bitterness pool in your stomach. Your hips shifted with each step Thunderstruck made, her hooves leaving impressions in the malleable ground. With your hands clamped tight around the reins, you looked over your shoulder at the endless lines of white-painted trees, overlapping with layers of dusky violet. Somewhere in there, behind all the leaves, was that decrepit cabin, already collecting dust.
You turned back around to look ahead at the neverending miles and miles of lush grassland stark against the cerulean sky. There was hardly a cloud in sight, save perhaps for a few dusty sweeps of white far up in the air. A gentle breeze swept across the green, rustling the high pasture until it reached you, messing with the fabric you had across your nose and mouth. You tugged at it, pulling it down and pressing it against the plush of your lips, ignoring the words of the two men before you.
"Shit, how far along do ya think Diego got along?" grumbled Johnny, running a veined hand across the width of his forehead, resting his tense fingers along his hairline. His hat resisted futilely, slowly revealing more of his blond hair until he tugged the blue knit forward. In his other hand sat the worn map all three of you had been using since you joined them back in the second stage— the markings from the previous owner had long been written over by three different forms of penmanship.
"There's no point thinking about that, Johnny," Gyro huffed, raising his hands out in front of him, stacking his fingers atop each other, "only two hours of daylight left. We should get moving." Your wristwatch sat heavy with obsolescence. Gyro's brows furrowed tight before he slumped back into his saddle, crestfallen. You were mere seconds from looking away, wholly uninterested in any more of their chatter, when his green eyes shot up to meet yours.
Your heart gave a hollow thump, so you gave Gyro a tight-lipped smile— you could barely call it a smile, though. He looked away immediately, settling into his saddle properly, hands clutched around Valkyrie's reins. You could almost laugh. Almost. Johnny groaned suddenly, dropping his hands to his lap with a deep frown that accentuated his typically non-existent smile lines. His baby blue bottom lip puckered out the tiniest bit.
"But he has a hundred-ninety points! I only got a hundred-thirty, and you- you only got seventy-one!" Johnny protested, his brows furrowed tight until the skin between formed ridges of ivory. And I have 115 points, you thought, letting your eyes travel back to the beautiful green grasses and clear blue skies. If you were ever to settle down, maybe you'd do so over here— far, far away from Johnny, Gyro, and that creepy cabin.
Maybe with...
Your stomach flopped weakly as a scaly smile appeared in the forefront of your mind before quickly being replaced by steely maroon eyes framed by hot pink hair. You brushed the thoughts off just as fast as they had come, distracting yourself with Thunderstruck's impatient huffs. She pawed at the dirt with her hooves, her horseshoes dull and dirtied. You'd have to take the time to polish them once you had the chance. Perhaps there was a town nearby. You weren't sure you wanted to camp out for the umpteenth time in a row.
