Lamb To The Slaughter (Red Dead Redemption 2 Fanfic)

Long Lost

Snow fluttered through the air like a thousand fleeing butterflies. It was quiet, only the sound of Daisy's heavy feet breaking the smooth snow drifts. Fae looked around at the marvel that laid out before her. The sparkling trees, the slivers of crystal covered grass, the way the snowflakes felt as they fell onto her eyelashes and danced on her nose. She'd never admit it, but she actually loved the snow. Sure it made everything wet, cold, and muddy. But when it was at its fullest beauty like this, she would trade a thousand moments to be in this one. It was calm, quiet, dizzying almost. Peace was a thing she hadn't felt in days, weeks almost. First all the jobs she was running around and attempting to keep in place, while attending to Delilah who could barely mount a horse anymore, helping where she could while everyone was off doing only god knows. It was chaotic, sure, but it was the only life she knew. Peace was only moments like this.

Fae had an old ratty map, one that Hosea slapped in her hand just before they fled. Just in case they got separated, Fae was the only one he trusted to help get everyone to safety in that situation. Tattered, coffee stained, and booze crumpled, the map had to be older than her. But still it worked enough for her to get a general sense of where things were. Shortly down the road from camp was a large enough lake from the looks of it. The storm had let up, that was good, and she was able to follow some tracks down the trail, they had to belong to a hunting party that Pearson had sent out. The wind was harsh, bitter, dug directly at the bones. But she would rather be stuck in a nasty wind storm like this one, then be shot or hung in Blackwater.

Upon riding up to the lake, she found that it was a quiet peaceful bowl. Sheltered from the outskirts of the storm, and wind that wreaked havoc across the snowy drifts. It all seemed peaceful and calm, with the only tracks being that from wildlife escaping the storm. Fae had half the mind to try and hunt down a deer, but she was more afraid of avalanches than bears. Still, she could never be too sure as to what was around her, who could be around her. O'Driscoll's about after all. So she took the time to place some snares, and snares were easy. Just a simple knot and trap really. Finnick, Dutch's oldest, had taught her how when she was little, and the skill had saved her life several times ever since. Once she had set a dozen snares, made from wire in her saddlebags that she was supposed to deliver to a farmer for a quick buck. Fae had found a decent place for her and Daisy to rest, just off the shore of the lake, where the water that didn't freeze melted the surrounding snow.

She started by unsaddling Daisy, using the mares saddle pad as a place to sit. Fae let the mare roam free, she was a good horse, she'd come back. She then broke out the fishing pole she had loaned and began to count her fishing provisions; rotten fruit that smelled delightful, half a can of worms for some reason Javier probably put them there for an odd reason, and stale bread that didn't look half bad as a snack. She was starving, sleep helped her regain her strength, but two crawling onto three days without any food made her mouth foam for stale bread. She started with the can of worms, it was the most basic fishing bait and it couldn't hurt to try. Once the line was set, she watched the red fish dance around the bate, not so eager to eat. She tried to keep calm and stay patient, this took time, it didn't happen in a moment's notice. Her knees to her chest, and a gentle rock in her sit, she had to relax. Taking a deep breath, and wandering back to the bread, she began to eat. Drool falling from her lips as the hard crust crunched under her teeth.

Questions began to flood her mind, had she come too late? Had the fish eaten already? Was the line set properly? Was the bait right? Was anything right? Was any of this right? The morning drifted slowly and painfully into the afternoon, and by the time she couldn't feel her fingertips she was ready to give up. But she couldn't, not this time. If she didn't return with food, even a single scrap, Pearson would never live it down. Nobody would. Maybe Delilah was right, she was always the voice of reason for Fae. She should have just waited for Javier, he was a far better fisherman then she would ever be. Hosea taught him after all, and he was the best fisherman she knew. He would have had dozens of fish by now, and returned the camp hero. Oh Javier, she hadn't even taken the time to worry about him.