Blood In the Water

chapter two

"Mistakes Of The Unfortunate."

They had left right after Chelsea ate her late lunch and Eleanor packed some supplies, on a trip that wasn't as long as she had originally thought, out to Bristol. Eleanor explained that as she assisted Chelsea onto the back of her horse. The two could easily make it to the city if they rode through most of the night, and if they didn't stop at all they could be back at the camp before tomorrow's lunch. But Eleanor shot down her own idea before Chelsea could build it up; They'd be setting up camp as soon as Eleanor spotted the first star in the sky.

But the hours before that were filled with thick silence, though it wasn't like Chelsea enjoyed it. She wanted to say something to the woman she clung to, maybe thank Eleanor for putting her back into her place and bringing her along, but Chelsea couldn't even bring herself to do that. The unexpected kindness of Eleanor was killing Chelsea's pride, and Chelsea was all too aware of it.

So instead she focuses on Eleanor's horse, the only other living thing that could get her mind off her own terrible behavior and the loss she experienced that caused it. He's nothing like Wilhelmina— her brother's horse, a mare that looked like she was straight from the cloudy sky— though he wasn't as dull as Chelsea once thought. Especially in the light of the setting sun. Which made the gelding shine like he'd been built from pure copper.

"Wanna get some distance in?" Eleanor calls, just as Chelsea loosened her grip and pressed her forehead into the back of Eleanor's shoulder. Sleep threatening to shut her eyes.

"Yeah," she mumbles, and Eleanor responds with a quick yip as she kicks her heels back. Her horse springs into speed, and suddenly Chelsea is wide awake again, her arms wrapped around Eleanor tight.

As they ride faster Chelsea begins to lose the details of the land around her. It just a blur. Lines of yellow and blue, copper and green, there wasn't anything to focus on. Just colors and Eleanor— the only things left in detail. She wasn't used to the speed of raging hooves below her, for riding horseback was nothing but a rare occasion. A rare occasion that didn't last, and holding to her promise Eleanor slowed and stopped once the sun had fully set.

Together they began to set up camp on the edge of the river, right on the line where sand met soil, a little off-course from the main road and from any people. Chelsea had been tasked with gathering sticks while Eleanor set up heavy canvas which made up their half-tent. It was already done by the time Chelsea came back from the nearby thicket.

"Thank you," Eleanor says softly as she grabs the thin and brittle branches from Chelsea's hands. Chelsea isn't really sure how to reply, even though she knows a welcome would probably be the best response. She felt as if she owed a little more to the older woman, they hardly knew each other and yet it seemed as if Eleanor cared. Probably just pity, which disgusted Chelsea. How was she supposed to move on and stay strong when everyone treated her like she was broken? Besides, they hardly knew each other— so Chelsea didn't speak.

Though Chelsea's quiet doesn't seem to bother Eleanor, in fact it seems as though she enjoys it. Acting as if the Callahan girl wasn't there and building the fire herself before moving onto the bedrolls. Chelsea supposed that Eleanor leaned towards the quiet type just out of pure preference, after all, before her Henry's death Eleanor hadn't bothered her much. If at all. She kept to herself but helped when needed, Chelsea knew that much from the couple months she's been running with them.

Eventually the quiet breaks Chelsea though, having her own thoughts be too much for her. "I like your horse, he's fast," she says, just as Eleanor is beginning to sit down and unwind. "Pretty too."

Eleanor looks up, and at her, before back at her horse who's grazing quietly near the tree line. "Yeah, Brandy is pretty I suppose." She says with a small smile.