67 - No Mercy

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Micah awoke that morning, a soft hand resting underneath his crumpled shirt as Natasha's hand rests on his middle; her hands warm and soft. The shifting of his body on the cot they shared caused her to stir in her sleep, her body arching away from his own, no longer moulded as one. He instantly felt the warmth of her body heat fade away from him like someone had ripped a blanket away from him in Colter.

He sat up, tiredly and silently, not wanting to awake the woman by his side.

He sat on the edge of the cot, similarly the way he did only hours ago and slid his boots on. He picked up his hat and slid on his black jacket before leaving their tent, allowing her to rest some more.

As he walked to the main campfire, he received some odd looks, especially from Bill and Javier as they were in a quiet conversation with one another, both looking up at him in unison once he emerged.

"Morning gentleman." He mumbled, sitting on one of the boxes that were scattered around, his hands outstretched slightly as the smoke from the flames warmed his chilled hands.

"How is she?" Bill asked, sounding rather protective of the woman who was still passed out asleep in the tent across from them.

Micah looked up from the flames, his eyes landing on the heavily set man and then to the Mexican beside him and then back at Bill before shrugging. "She was a lil shook up is all."

"No shit." Javier breathed, a slight chuckle escaping him although he didn't find the situation they were in funny. "Can't believe Molly did that to her, to us." He continued, shaking his head in disbelief as he placed his hat on his head and standing to his feet, walking away without saying another word.

Bill frowned slightly and sat forward, "Micah, what's the plan?"

Micah didn't look at Bill as he spoke to him, his attention was now in the fire that burned against the logs, representing his mood perfectly.

"We get money and we run. As always." Micah stated flatly, rubbing his hands together before shoving them in the pockets of his beige trousers and looking across to Dutch's tent. The man, the leader, the mentor, was sat on a chair outside his tent by the cave, his head down into a large piece of paper, presumably a map.

Before the incident had happened, Micah and Dutch in Lakay composed a plan after Charles gave information to them about where Leviticus Cornwall was; a man who owned a large oil company and sat on a large pile of cash. The gang had had run ins with Cornwall's men before but Dutch insisted they needed another plan.

Micah was sceptical but understood he no longer had a choice.

Himself and Bill fell into a small chatter, still wary of one another after everything that went on between them but it was Natasha's presence that caught both of their attention.

"Look, she's up." Bill nodded towards their tent, Micah sitting up and casting a glance over his shoulder as Natasha emerged, placing a black hat on her head and as he looked at her from head to toe, she was in completely black.

She looked amazing; she always did to him but the life was drained from her eyes. He could tell she was sad as it drained through her and her corpse like state stumbled slightly as if she forgot how to walk.

Micah stands up slowly, almost ready to assist her but she straightened herself out and walked towards Dutch. Her head was bowed low, noticing the precarious looks she was being paid from people such as Herr Strauss, Pearson and Swanson.

He observed with curious eyes as Dutch glanced up from his map, noticing the woman in front of him before he stood to his feet, folding the map and suggesting he stepped into his tent.

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