RDR II : The Tulip & the Willow (CANNON)

(Ch1) -Colter-

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Chapter 1
"The Great Silence"
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By 1899, the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end.
It had almost passed into myth...
America was becoming a land of laws...
Even the West had mostly been tamed.
A few gangs still roamed but they were being hunted down and destroyed.

The harsh winds of the raging winter lashed at the faces of the figures crawling through the dead of the night. The storm howled fiercely, powerless to stop the weather, the drifters on horses let the fangs of ice bite into their bones. Only they weren't just any wanderers, the holsters and guns clung onto the men on horseback like the snow on their thick coats and their horses.

Inside of the wagons, the lanterns glowed within. They were looking as if it gave off a sense of warmth, but alas, there was only the cold of the terrible snowstorm and its sugary particles slowly creeping in through the cloth that covered the wagons. The lanterns' light highlighted the faces of each of the women, they were tired and solemn, their wrinkles and eyes showed only despair and sorrow.

One lady stood out from the group in the wagon, who held a rifle, its metallic parts shiny and silver. She sat by the back of the wagon where the exit is, the cold biting against her body despite her wearing a bulky attire. It made her fingers incredibly stiff, they were like icy claws clasping on her favored Winchester. A girl around the age of 17 shivered in her sleep on her shoulder, tightly clung on a blanket draped over her like everyone there. The cowgirl glanced at her to adjust her blanket and checked her well-being, her cold hands gently pressed on her forehead.

The 17-year-old girl shuffled, her heavy eyelids opening to reveal bright blue eyes. "I- I'm scared..." She whispered, the storm almost drowning out her voice. "D- do you think we're gon' be fine T- Tulip?..." She found it difficult to push the words out of her slightly chapped lips, especially with her throat choking up from recalling terrible events.

The woman, Tulip, placed a hand on her blonde hair, trying to comfort her. "Yeah..." Another lady spoke, she had dark skin and paused to think carefully over something. "Yeah we gotta be. We've made it this far, ain't nothin' gon' stop us, Willow, even those Pinkertons and that get-up back on Blackwater."

The 17-year-old blonde glanced at her, "I- I hope so, Tilly..." The atmosphere was tense and heavy, the girls didn't speak much in the wagon, the recent events made conversations hard to start off. Everyone's heads hung low, grave and quiet.

Tulip glanced out of the crevice between the cloths every now and then, checking the other wagons that creaked and stirred against the wind. The horses were just as tired as the people, still plowing through the white dust that piled up and pushing onward. Tulip, who had never said a word, but held the rifle looked around, sighing at the situation the gang has gotten themselves into and now were trying to dig themselves out of the hole.

Trotting through to what seems like an endless winding road of nothingness, the storm had no signs of lifting, Willow couldn't sleep and just stared at the darkness out of the wagons. It was a black night, nothing could be seen, and the snow whirled like a tornado. She and Tulip could barely make out the shape of the other carriages only the orange glow of the lanterns made the outline, which were being smuggled by the dark and splotches of the snow from the weather that smothered the light.