The Tale of The Red Spirit

{The Black Stallion}

          Serpent's Canyon

Marcus finally dragged Ben out of the suffocating confines of his house, like a parent yanking their kid out of bed on a Sunday morning. The sun was shining, the breeze was soft, and the birds were chirping like they were auditioning for a damn nature documentary. But Ben? Ben looked like someone had just told him he had to walk barefoot across broken glass.

"C'mon, man. Get out here," Marcus grunted, trying to shove Ben further into the daylight. "It's not the apocalypse. The sun won't kill you."

Ben shuffled like a man walking to his doom, not even looking at the damn scenery. His feet dragged, head down, like he was about to discover the world outside had just turned into an alien planet. Marcus couldn't take it anymore.

Without any warning, he slapped the back of Ben's head so hard it sounded like someone was trying to start a fire with a stick. Ben staggered, eyes wide, mouth falling open in confusion.

"OW! What the actual fuck, Marcus?!" Ben spun around, rubbing the back of his skull, clearly rattled.

Marcus didn't flinch, not even a little. He just stared at Ben with the deadest look on his face. "What the hell's wrong with you? You've been acting like a damn hermit for days, and I'm sick of it. Either snap out of it or I'm leaving you out here to fend for yourself like a wild animal."

Ben winced, still holding his head like he'd been hit by a freight train. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck did I do to deserve that?" His voice was half in disbelief, half in annoyance.

"Maybe you should stop wallowing in your own bullshit and actually, I don't know, exist outside that house for once?" Marcus said, deadpan. "Jesus, you'd think I'm asking you to climb a mountain, not go out for a walk."

Ben ran a hand over his face, looking like he might just keel over from the effort. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, "but don't think you're getting away with that slap. I'll get you back."

Marcus just grinned wider, clearly enjoying this far more than he should have. "Oh, I'll be waiting. Anyway, the sheriff rounded up a bunch of wild horses. He's wondering if you want to go see them—or maybe try to ride one. You know, if you can peel your sorry ass off the ground."

Ben's face twisted into a mixture of disbelief and irritation, like Marcus had just asked him to start juggling flaming swords. "First a bear, now horses? What the fuck is going on around here? This place is like a damn zoo. Do I look like a rancher to you?" He gestured wildly, as if everything was Marcus's fault, as usual.

Marcus just laughed, shaking his head. "So, what's it gonna be? You going, or are we gonna have to drag you kicking and screaming like a toddler?"

Ben sighed so deeply it was like his soul was trying to escape his body. "Do I even get a say in this?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm, like he was begging Marcus to just let him sulk in peace.

Marcus's grin widened, his hands landing on Ben's shoulders with the force of a bouncer at a club. "Nope. No say. You're coming. You're already here, might as well make the best of it."

Ben narrowed his eyes, as if he were searching for any possible way to escape this torture. "You're unbelievable, you know that? I swear, you act like I'm a fucking puppet, and you're just yanking my strings for fun."

Marcus chuckled like he'd just told the funniest joke of all time. "That's 'cause you are, Ben. You're my personal puppet. Don't you know? I'm the master, and you're the poor bastard who gets dragged into whatever dumbass plan I have next."

Ben rolled his eyes so hard it looked like they might actually fall out of his head. "Jesus Christ, I'm really starting to regret this friendship, you know that? You're like a walking disaster zone. I just want a moment of peace, but noooo, here you are—dragging me into every goddamn mess in this town."