Benjamin Lewis's Story

Things had been going too smoothly. Darcy had money in her pocket, the weather had held, and the skinwalker hunt they were coming back from up near Livingston had turned out to be a milk run. Three hunters and a revenant had been overkill, but everyone had walked away alive and whole, so she wasn’t complaining about her one in three share. It was enough to pay for a room at an Inn the night before with real beds, a wash tub, and soap (absolute heaven) with plenty left over for a supply run. They were even making great time, Darcy had noted cheerfully all day, so of course things had to go to shit.

The plan was to run into Blackwater for supplies on the way back to the cabin. She and Benji had been on the road for almost a week now, they were due for a little rest, and Darcy wanted to catch up with the local news in town. Benji would want to check his garden, the last of the hardier late blooming crops needing to be put up, so Darcy had made a note to pick up some more salt and jars from Tempe’s store with her earnings. An hour ago they’d been arguing about how many bags of potatoes Benji could reasonably buy, Darcy refusing to allow that to be their only roadworthy provisions to buy. Now the lightheartedness of that moment seemed far away.

“How many?” Darcy asked lowly, eyes scanning what she could see of the town as the scent of decay and rot burned her nostrils. Benji had sensed something wrong first, but in broad daylight, this close to town...there had been a stray hope. There wasn’t any arguing with that smell though. Anyone unfortunate enough to encounter a wendigo would never mistake it for anything else.

The wind tousled Benji’s hair, and he tipped his head thoughtfully as silver eyes gazed off into the distance ahead. For a moment he said nothing. “Many.”

Which was no answer at all, but enough to know they were fucked. Darcy cursed quietly as she rifled through their leftover supplies, taking an inventory of what they had. It wasn't as bad as it would have been coming off a more difficult hunt, but they still weren’t charging in with a full bag. Only four jars left. There were more monsters down there than they could take on their own. For a moment Darcy’s mind caught on that thought, her eyes flicking up to Benji from her distressingly light saddle bag. They weren’t caught up in the melee yet, they had horses. Turning back to the road, skirting around town to the relative safety of their cabin, they could just leave. It would be easy.

“We’d better hurry then.” Benji said quietly, eyes locked, and clearly distracted by something Darcy couldn’t see with strictly human vision far ahead in the town. “They shouldn’t be out this early. No one will be ready.” But of course they wouldn’t leave, they had friends down there, and neither Lewis sibling was very good at walking away. Even when it was the smartest thing to do.

Darcy nodded, readjusting the extra strap on the saddle bag to sit across her body as a satchel. They left their horses under the light shelter of some tree cover just outside the city, a spot Darcy suspected would be safer than the chaos churning inside. If they didn’t make it out, Winnie and Spot knew their way back to the cabin. Benji gave their noses a comforting stroke before they left, and from there, they made their way on foot. The choir of screams beginning to rise up in the city center acted as their guide to the monsters plaguing the streets.

By now the stench was suffocating. One wendigo could stink up the place, but this? Darcy had never heard of so many wendigos hunting together, had always thought they were too territorial for that. She tried not to choke, yanking her arm up to cover her nose for a momentary reprieve as they crept through sheltered alleyways at a steady clip. They were closer to the center of town, near Addie’s place, when they spotted the first wendigo. It was eating some poor woman in the street, her body pinned in place as it chewed on her neck. The poor woman’s body still twitched minutely, but her eyes were glazed, and her throat had been ripped to shredded ribbons of bloody meat. There was no saving her. Another wendigo was slowly approaching from a side street, chuffing softly as it scented the fresh blood. The first wendigo growled in warning, its shoulders hunching over its meal defensively, but the second still slowly advanced.

Darcy watched the encounter carefully, stopping Benji from going forward with one hand, and pulling out one of her jars and tinder box from her bag with the other. It was horrifying to think of two monsters grappling over feeding rights to a corpse that wasn’t even cold yet, but strategically, this was good luck. Two wendigos with one greasy jar, efficient for their limited resources. Darcy had just lit a match, bringing the small flame to the alcohol soaked cloth peeking out of the jar when she noticed the boy.

He couldn’t have been more than ten, shaking behind the barrel as he watched the wendigo eating the woman in the street. Darcy thought it was fear before she saw the rock in his hand. “Dammit kid, don’t do it!” She hissed harshly under her breath a moment before he was throwing the rock at the monster.

“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER! GET AWAY FROM MY MA!” There was a surprising amount of courage pouring out of the kid, even with leaky eyes and shaky knees, but Darcy wished he’d been more of a coward as the wendigo’s head jerked up in his direction. “Benji…”

“I know.” He answered without her needing to say it, and they were both moving, Benji quite a bit faster than she. He was on the boy, pulling him back and away down another alley as Darcy dashed into the street, making as much noise as possible to draw the creature’s eye as she flung her fiery payload at the ugly son of a bitch. Her aim was true enough, flames dancing across the corpse of the woman and the first wendigo upon impact. It’s wail high pitched and keening as the fire spread across its body, but any satisfaction Darcy got from that was short lived.

The impact was hard but clumsy as the second wendigo lunged at her back. It had been trying to grab hold, but Darcy turned enough in time to simply be knocked to the dirt, left shirt sleeve ripped as three shallow cuts bloomed red across her upper arm. She shimmied back as far as she could, scrambling for the revolver holstered at her hip. Fuck all it was going to do to a wendigo, but he was too close. Darcy fired and emptied the chamber, hoping it would buy her enough time to get to her feet.

Darcy is fast, but few things are faster than a wendigo. Dacy had barely been able to regain solid footing, pulling the long hunting knife she kept tucked through her belt loop free, before the creature was lunging for her again. This time she was more prepared, waiting as long as she dared to pivot away with a parting slash that did little real damage, but left the creature rearing back and hissing it’s fury. This was a delicate dance she led, lunge, slash, spin away, and purely defensive in nature. Darcy had to buy time, there was no winning against a wendigo up close like this, much less two. She’d been careful to whirl her movements as far away from the smoldering wendigo she’d hit earlier as the street would allow. It was currently injured, but Darcy wasn’t fool enough to think that made her safe from it. Still, with flames cracking across it’s charred and flaking skin, her knife would have stood a better chance. Darcy’s satchel was less than fifteen feet away, taunting her with its contents, but it was less than useless to her unless she could get a moment to break away. For now, it was all she could do to keep the monster’s teeth from tearing into her flesh, because she sure as shit wasn’t ending up anyone’s goddamn snack today! Where the fuck is Benji?!

---

In the midst of all the chaos down below, Harlan knew he would have to prioritise a target; in other words, decide who to help. Even with his experience and skill, he was no miracle worker. Singling out the most available opportunity with a shot that counted was his absolute best bet for taking one of these bastards down. From atop the saloon, his eyes scanned as much of the immediate area as he could in a matter of seconds but it was more than enough to gauge which angles were already covered. One firing from the rooftop across the way, several more on the street, and Arthur peeking from one of the saloon’s windows. The one among them he deemed to be in the most amount of potential danger was, as he could make out, a blonde-haired woman - easily in her twenties. Human? He thought. A hunter, at least, but mortal enough.

Harlan lifted his rifle with the butt of it resting against his shoulder and lowered his head enough to peer through the scope. Inhaling deeply, he held the breath in his lungs to steady his aim, allowing himself adequate time to line up the shot. He fired once but it didn’t connect, meriting a curse of impatience from the Hunter. He leaned his rifle to the side, clutching it with his right hand while the left reached for another round from his belt. Loading it into the port as quickly as his hands would allow it, he cocked it and repeated the process. Aim, inhale, take the shot. This time, the bullet connected with the rear of the Wendigo’s head and he watched as its legs gave out.

---

A shot rang out overhead, whizzing past a little too close for comfort as it shattered the window of the small shop across from her. The clatter of falling glass turned out to be a godsend though, as the wendigo turned toward the noise, and leapt at the wall. Not one to waste an opportunity, Darcy dead sprinted to her fallen satchel, eyes shooting up to scan the rooftop as she went, finding the figure of a man perched atop Addie’s saloon. His rifle was pointed with clear intent, and as her eyes raked across him, it was obvious the man was a hunter, the lines of his body poised with too much ease and confidence in a situation like this to be anything else. That was comforting, especially as the sounds coming from nearby streets meant any other potential backup was otherwise occupied. If they both made it out of this alive, Darcy was going to owe that man a drink.

Darcy had rummaged out a second jar, and a match from her tinder box when she heard the second shot, this one connecting with its intended target. It was a solid hit, but it wouldn’t keep the monster down long. It was enough time for Darcy to light a match and ignite the rag. Her eyes flicked back to the man on the roof. So far this guy was a fifty-fifty shot. Not the best odds to bet on, but she’d rolled the dice on worse. Standing up from her bag, Darcy let out a long whistle, trying to catch his eye. Carefully waving the jar once-twice, trying to convey her intent so he’d be ready, Darcy threw the jar at the Wendigo whose attention had been caught by the sound as well. Flames erupted on impact, and the Wendigo let loose a shrill, almost human, scream. Darcy gripped her knife tightly at the ready in case this guy turned out to be a lousy shot.

---

There was a momentary break in the action that Harlan exploited in order to reload his rifle once more; he reckoned he had at least a few seconds to spare while the creature was stunned and an extra round prepared ahead of time could only serve to aid him. He was just beginning to reposition the rifle when a whistle rang through the air. While it had successfully captured his attention, as surely it was meant to, he set his jaw and expelled an impatient huff of air from his nostrils. If they were lucky, that same whistle wouldn’t have attracted too much unwanted attention, but Harlan had never been a particularly fortunate man.

He searched for the woman’s location again as she had clearly taken advantage of the distraction and put a bit of distance between herself and the beast. His eyes were drawn to the brightness of the flame in her hand, noted the gesture that accompanied it, and offered a slow nod of approval. “Good girl,” he drawled under his breath, lifting the rifle and peering through the scope for his third (and hopefully his last) shot at the beast. Harlan sucked in a lungful of cold morning air in the same second that the jar collided with the wendigo, and he held it there as he poured every ounce of his focus into aiming at the creature’s head. The only downside to this tactic, he noted, was that it was exceptionally harder to line up an accurate shot when his target was literally ablaze. He didn’t feel too much of a time pressure though. This woman was only a stranger, after all, and he’d seen more than enough unfortunate deaths to know that… well, shit just happens sometimes.

When Harlan was sure he had the best possible shot in sight, he pulled the trigger with near instant reaction speed, then allowed all the breath to escape him at once. It took a second for his eyes to catch up with the scene below but he was pretty sure he’d done a damn fine job of it when the wendigo tumbled over itself before collapsing on the ground in a heap of burnt flesh and gangly limbs. A direct shot to the head he figured, but just in case, he kept his eyes on it for a moment or two longer. When he was satisfied that the damned thing was staying down this time, he lowered his gun slightly. Freeing up one of his hands, he waved his arm high enough to hopefully capture her attention in return, then pointed in the opposite direction - a gesture which told her to get the fuck out of there while she still could.

---

“No go back! We can’t just-SHE’S STILL OUT THERE!” Benji was many times stronger than the boy wailing in his arms, but in a situation like this, that didn’t really matter. Distress oozed from the boy’s every pore, a noxious mix of snot and tears leaking down his chin as his uncooperative limbs scrambled to break free and rush back to the burning heap that had been his mother. This child’s world had just imploded, his life ripped to the core and the wound lay bare and open. Rational thought was beyond him in this moment, words unlikely to sooth.

He was almost too big for it, but unnatural strength had its advantages as he gathered the boy up in a proper grip. Small arms snaked around Benji’s shoulders, and his tear streaked face, snot and all, found a home in the crook of Benji’s neck. It was a gesture of comfort, and a promise of safety. Benji couldn’t restore the dead to life, but he could give this, just letting him be held. It couldn’t fix what was wrong with the world, but it was something, and Benji felt something in the child’s soul ease, if just a little.

“Your mother would not want you to die.” He whispered softly into the boy’s curls, gently patting his shoulders as he crept through the narrow alleyway, looking for a safer hiding spot for the boy. He didn’t want to leave a child alone in clear distress, but his sister was still out there as well, and she was going to need help.

“She needs you to live and grow up into the man you tried to be today. One day, you will be brave and strong, and the kind of man who protects others, and she’ll be so proud of you. But you have to live.” Benji murmured as the sobs died down to whimpers. He wanted to say more, but was startled to realize they were not alone. Silver eyes whipped to the opening of the alleyway they’d taken shelter in, alert and steely as he spied the wendigo, charred flesh practically dripping down its frame, stalk in after them. Benji should have sensed him sooner, but he’d been distracted. That was foolish. Wendigos are hunters, and he’s singled out this child as his prey. The sounds of weeping had surely made a convenient trail to follow, but it was too late now to change things. At least it is already injured, that will have to make up for the terrain. Benji thought grimly, as he adjusted the protective hold to the child in his arms, and reached for the knife in his belt with his dominant hand.

---

Arthur was very rarely the sort of guy who ever lost his cool in chaotic situations, or struggled to keep track of his surroundings, but what took place in that saloon had become a blur in his mind. One second they were perched behind cover, waiting for the right moment to strike, and in the second, he was left to watch in stunned silence as the red-haired woman was thrown through the doors with the wendigo at her heel. He hesitated for a moment, clutching the machete so tightly in his fist that his knuckles had turned white. The nervousness was beginning to settle in, he knew. Another moment more and his feet were carrying him forward on nothing but pure instinct. He crashed through the saloon doors, skidding to a halt in the street. By that point, the woman was already on her feet and firing at the wendigo, and it was only in this moment that Arthur truly took note of her appearance. God only knows how he hadn’t noticed it earlier, but nonetheless he felt slightly better about her chances.

He allowed himself a moment to survey the rest of the street, catching a glimpse of a man in the near distance with a child wrapped up in his arms. Arthur’s concern prompted a soft frown as he watched them enter a nearby alleyway; an expression which hardened significantly when one of the wendigos stalked in after them. Arthur wasn’t one to abandon anyone who needed his help - he simply couldn’t abide by it - but it was his mother who told him that he should always protect those who most need it. By his eyes, even if the man was capable of fighting such a monster, he would be severely hindered by the presence of a child. If any harm befell the youngster in a situation Arthur could’ve easily prevented, it would eat away at him for longer than he cared to deal with. Instead of running straight ahead, he split and made for the alleyway. At its entrance, he caught sight of the wendigo’s back. It was staring straight ahead, eyes locked on its prey. Arthur could just about see the man from before, kneeling ahead, and the child still in his arms.

“Hey!” he called, eyes focused on the wendigo as its head snapped around to look at him. Arthur already had his pistol drawn in one hand, still grasping the machete his father had lent him in the other, and he waved both arms to further hold the monster’s attention. He whistled once, then lifted his gun and fired a shot at its leg. Its mouth tore open and from it came an inhuman screech of pain that bellowed and bounced off the walls of the alleyway. The wendigo turned fully and launched into a sprint, closing the distance between itself and the Hunter in what felt like barely a second. Even Arthur wasn’t prepared for the speed of the attack as it tackled him to the ground, causing him to land awkwardly on his right shoulder and cry out in pain. He even dropped the machete in his momentary panic. The creature was on top of him instantly, claws splayed and reaching for him. If he didn’t end this in the next couple of seconds, he’d be dead.

Arthur, still laying on his back, raised the gun into the air and shot three times in quick succession. Once in the chest, another in the throat, and finally the last of them was a dead shot through the eye. The wendigo stumbled for a moment before collapsing to the side of him, its low growl petering into silence. “Christ…” he whispered under his breath, allowing himself a moment to breathe before he even attempted to move.

Eventually, he picked himself up off the ground with a strained grunt, leaving the machete where it had fallen. He clutched at his shoulder and exhaled shakily, fingers feeling around for the extent of the injury. He could roll the joint easy enough but he figured he’d still end up with a fierce bruise from the impact. It could have been a lot worse, so he was thankful for that at least.

His eyes settled on the pair at last, specifically the youngster still clutched in the older man’s arms, and his expression shifted from one of discomfort to visible concern. “Is he hurt?” he asked, beginning the cautiously slow walk to their position.

---

The wendigo’s frame was taunt, it’s haunches curled with clear intent to lunge. Benji shifted the grip on his knife, angling the child away for better ease to toss him to safety in case he needed to grapple with the beast with both hands. It never came to that though. The man who arrived in the alley was tall, with eyes that glistened like two river stones washed bright by the creek on a sunny afternoon. It was a strange thing to notice given the circumstances, but it was there all the same. Benji watched transfixed a moment, a sharp whistle leaving the man’s lips as he vied for the creature’s attention. The monster obliged, and Benji was snapped out of his momentary reverie by the sound of a gunshot, and the realization this man was about to be torn apart. The bellowing screech was all the warning either of them had, and between one blink and the next, the wendigo was on top of him. For a shuddering heartbeat, Benji was convinced he’d be too late to stop it. He was fast, but even revenant speed couldn’t deposit the boy a safe distance and make it back across the alley to pull the wendigo off him before the creature sunk its teeth into the man’s neck.

That too, like Benji’s knife, proved to be unnecessary. This man was a warrior, and he saved himself. Three shots, precise and button neat finished the job, and the creature collapsed. Benji approached cautiously as the man gathered himself up. He inspected the creature first, adjusting the body slightly with his foot to check for all the signs it was truly dead. Between the fire damage, and the bullet wounds, Benji was confident the monster had breathed its last. His eyes flicked back to the man as he spoke.


“Not physically.” Benji replied with a careful look at the child in his arms who’d gone concerning quiet. Small shivers had begun to wrack his shoulders, and Benji began rubbing gentle circles on his back in a wordless gesture of comfort. It reminded him of what Darcy would do when he was small and scared, and the world was loud. Benji didn’t know much about children, but it seemed like the right thing to do. “Though it seems you can not say the same.” Benji frowned as he noticed the stiff pain in his shoulder. Striding forward without warning, Benji leaned forward to inspect where he’d been hurt. Carefully peeling back the lapel and shirt collar in the way, Benji ran gentle fingers along injured skin as he assessed the damage.

"You took quite the pounding there. No penetration though.That's good." Benji reasoned with a smile, nodding his approval as he noted at least an absence of blood. “I’m Benji Lewis.” He offered by way of greeting.

“And this is…” Turning his gaze back down to the child in invitation, he watched the boy’s eyes shift to the man who stepped in to help them, and hold there as well. “Simon Grey.” He replied softly, a little lost as he clung to Benji’s side.

---

It wasn’t until the distance between them closed that Arthur was afforded a more generous look at the stranger; the eyes in particular stealing much of his initial focus. A second Revenant? He mused, fighting against the shudder that threatened to rake up his spine. This whole situation reeked of something strange and foreboding, and Arthur very much doubted this would be the end of his poor luck. That wasn’t important at the moment, however, as his gaze fixed on the weeping child. He knew all too well what it felt like to be in that position but he cut that train of thought short before it took hold of him completely.

When the man’s attention returned to Arthur, specifically the injury he’d sustained, he offered a foolishly nonchalant shrug (ignoring the pain it brought) and began to form the words ‘I’m fine,’ until suddenly the collar of his shirt was being stripped back to expose the bare flesh of his shoulder. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat, the unspoken words caught on his ever-so-slightly pursed lips. He felt fingers brushing against the yet unbruised skin but for some reason the pain wasn’t registering in the same way it had before; that is to say, it was barely even noticeable. He had become engrossed in the very presence of this stranger. Whether it was the fact that he’d never been so physically close to a Revenant before or something else entirely, Arthur couldn’t quite comprehend what had caused such a lack of composure.

He’s talking to you, moron. Arthur blinked a few times, regaining his awareness just in time to catch the man’s introduction. He consciously held back the smile that threatened to twitch at the corners of his lips, and instead nodded graciously. Benji went against Arthur’s every preconceived notion of what a Revenant might look or act like. This man who risked his skin to protect a human child, who had shown genuine interest in Arthur’s health, and who did not appear outwardly intimidating in any sense. Perhaps engrossed was not a strong enough word for the fascination that Arthur felt in those few moments. He practically had to tear his eyes away from Benji as the child introduced himself, which effectively grounded him in reality once more.

Arthur’s expression softened considerably as he knelt in front of the child, lifting a hand to run it through soft curls. “Hello, Simon,” he greeted, his tone mindfully gentle. “My name is Arthur… Arthur Talbot.” He offered a sympathetic smile, painfully unaware of the circumstances with which this child was just confronted, and racked his brain for an appropriate sentiment to express. “Don’t you worry, okay? Nothing is going to hurt you while we’re here, I swear.” He lifted his hand and curled every finger but one; the pinky finger, which he extended towards the child. “Pinky promise?”

Simon gazed at Arthur a moment, sniffling softly as he looked from his face down to his hand, outstretched digit promising a safety he was desperate to cling to. Holding onto Benji with one hand, and bringing his own pinky to match Arthur’s, the child tried for something resembling a watery smile. “...Okay.”

The shot reverberated across the street, and for a moment, Darcy held her breath with her knife gripped firmly in hand. At first the wendigo didn’t move, but an exhale later the sizzled sack of limbs collapsed to the ground, and it didn’t look like it was getting up anytime soon. Cautiously she crept forward, retrieving her empty pistol as she went, checking to be sure the monster was well and truly dead. It had been a direct shot to the head, damn near between the eyes from what she could tell around the dying flames, which was...admittedly impressive given the circumstances.

Darcy glanced up grudgingly, catching the man’s arm move as he waved her to get out of the street. Shouldering her pack, Darcy nodded with a quick two finger salute, intent on doing just that and tracking down Benji...and that’s when she remembered the second wendigo. Which, life imperiled adrenaline rush or not, was a stupid thing to forget about. Whipping her head around, she still saw the charred corpse of the woman lying in the street, but there was no smoldered wendigo to be seen. It had moved on, the noise from the shot would have drawn it this way undoubtedly otherwise. A cold shiver swept down her spin as her thoughts followed the logical path to who it might have followed.

Another shot blasted from around the corner, and Darcy was off and running before she had time to really think it through. That had most certainly been a shotgun, which wasn’t Benji’s weapon of choice at all. Who she found though had her refocusing on the here and now. Addie was sprawled in the dirt, clearly having taken a hit. There was another man standing nearby, probably a civilian, though a brave one if he was standing with them out in the open without developing into a panicking mess. Up street, tackling a man to the ground, Darcy caught sight of the wendigo, another one. “Unfuckingbelievable…” She growled under her breath, rummaging in her pack to find a match, and the second to last jar of fire starter. They were going to be in serious trouble if there were many more of these things…

Darcy lit the ragged fuse, and picked up a rock from the dirt road. This was flying by the seat of her pants, but there wasn’t time to parse a real plan through. That guy was going to get himself ripped apart if she didn’t do something fast, so moving up the street as quick and quietly as she could, Darcy chucked the rock through a store window about fifteen feet away from it. Glass shattered and hit the ground in a chorus of destruction, and the wendigo’s head whipped around, lunging at the sound of possible threat. As soon as it was clear of the man, Darcy tossed her fiery payload into the mix, and for the third time that day, flames danced across melting skin as a wendigo shrieked in rage.

David had almost all but given up hope, having dropped his gun just a little out of reach. The pain from the wounds on his side were burning like hell and sapping his energy, meaning that he couldn’t fight as hard as he wanted to. But when glass shattered somewhere to his right and the monster’s head whipped around, he found a new surge in energy, managing to scramble for his gun as the creature lunged towards the new sound. A jar full of flames sailed towards the creature, and David didn’t waste time trying to see where it came from. He barely even took the time to line up the shot properly, firing a few rounds into the wendigo. It let out one final shriek and fell to the ground. He watched it for a few seconds to make sure it was down for good, before struggling back to his feet. Things were almost too quiet now, and he didn’t dare let himself believe that was it.

He searched his surroundings and spotted a woman standing nearby. He wasn’t sure they’d ever really crossed paths before, but one look and he knew she was a hunter. They all had a certain look to them.

“Thanks.” he called, his usual wordy nature a little beyond him right about then.

Pop pop pop pop! It seemed the guy wasn’t as down for the count as Darcy had previously thought. Good thing too, since she hadn’t had time to reload her own pistol. They both waited a moment with baited breath as the man got back to his feet. When it became clear the monster wasn’t getting back up again, Darcy let out a sigh of relief. Suddenly the sound of three shots, in quick sequence, a short distance away, only a street over maybe, but after that it was silent. Was it over? Hard to tell.

“Don’t mention it.” Darcy replied offhandedly, suddenly less surprised this guy was up and moving once she caught a glimpse of his eyes. “You’re going to need to have that looked at, come one.” Even revenants needed medical attention, and while those wounds didn’t look fatal, infection was no joke. She needed to find Benji, but Addy was hit, and this guy was hurt. Checking them over had to be the priority. Darcy had to constantly remind herself that her little brother was a lot stronger these days than his babyface suggested, but old habits die hard. One thing at a time.

The woman was definitely a hunter. It took a certain kind of person to remain so calm after that and those people were almost always hunters. “Don’t tell me, you’re a nurse as well as a hunter?” He remarked, raising an eyebrow playfully, but he obliged in following her. He was used to dealing with various types of injuries from the farm, but she was right, these weren’t the type of wounds he could just bandage up and hope for the best. Even if that had been his initial plan. “Name’s David.”

Darcy couldn’t help a snort. She’d seen her fair share of wounds from a wendigo hunt, and she was a steady hand with a needle and thread in whiskey wash, but she wasn't the first one anyone should be running to. This David character was in trouble if he was in a bad enough way to need someone with a real medical background and was stuck with her.

“Enough to patch you up in a pinch, but let's see if we can get a real doc to take a look at you before we roll the dice on me yeah?” Darcy asked with a raised brow of her own as they headed back over to Addie and the other man in the street. She needed to make sure her friend was alright as well. “Darcy. I’d say nice to meet you, but given the circumstances, I’d say we’ve both had a less than delightful evening thus far.” She remarked, before approaching her friend, carefully checking for injuries.

Arthur Talbot. Benji’s eyes seemed locked with the taller man’s, an unfamiliar sensation of warmth starting low and spreading across his skin. It distracted him for a moment, as Arthur comforted Simon, their fingers intertwined in hopeful promise. A fond smile twisted his lips as Benji watched, trying to take the measure of this man who had risked his person to come to their aid. Beyond an exterior beauty that was easy to see, there was a solidness and honesty about him that Benji found intriguing. His sister had always been far better at understanding people, but Benji had a sense for their character that was hard to explain. Darcy didn’t always trust it, but Benji’s instincts hadn’t led him astray with someone’s nature yet. Arthur seemed to him like a towering Red Oak, a strong and most dependable sort of tree, and it made Benji inclined to like him without question. The three of them seemed almost disconnected from the violent world around them in that moment, like floating in a warm haze. So when movement rustled again at the opening of the alley, shattering Benji free of the strange feeling, he…possibly over reacted. Pulling Arthur and Simon suddenly back and behind him, away from the movement he sensed, Benji reached for his knife, and wasn’t particularly inclined to lower it when he saw the face of the first man who joined them.


They were greeted first by a whistle, the older man’s eyes scanning the dead wendigo before dark eyes met Benji’s. “Don’t tell me this is your handwork Lewis, Baby Benji all grown up?” Elias Nash called out with a sly look, his eyes roaming up next to get a glimpse of who was behind him. The boy he recognized, the man he did not. Simon was Tessa’s kid, and with a slight wince, remembered the woman’s corpse as they’d come down the street. Looked like Simon was on his own now, which was no safe thing to be for a kid in Blackwater. It also wasn’t his problem, so like other uncomfortable feelings, he shoved the guilt away. “Where’s that sister of yours? Aren’t you two usually joined at the hip?”

“Hardly your business.” Benji replied coldly. There were a hundred reasons Benji disliked Nash, not least of which was the fact Benji never walked away from the man without feeling condescended to. If it wasn’t outright lying and scheming with the man, you could count on being insulted at least three times in any conversation before walking away, not to mention you’d best check your pockets. His employer was another reason very high on that list. If Elias Nash was asking after Darcy, it was for him, and that thought stirred something primal deep in his chest.

“Relax kid, we’re just doing a headcount. I saw her duck round the corner a bit ago, but haven’t caught sight of her since.” Another, more welcome voice called out, appearing with a donkey drawn cart that had the remains of one Wendigo already piled on. Angus McClain was a gruff old timer in Blackwater. He’s owned his own medical practice supposedly once upon a time, but most of his medical work these days was patching up hunters, amongst whose ranks he was generally counted. Benji had known the man since he was a child, having been a frequent face in the Lewis household until there'd been a falling out with Deacon. Gus had only moved back to Blackwater a few years prior, but there was still affection there for the old family friend.

“Yeah, relax kid. Put that knife down before you hurt somebody huh?” Nash couldn’t resist throwing in another dig.


“Nash, get yer weasel ass over here and help me with this thing. You ain’t gettin’ paid to stand around and talk like you did somethin today.” Gus snapped as he walked over to the monster’s corpse.

“Benji, why don’t you take yer friends here and go find yer sister. People are starting to congregate, and it’s best if ya don’t get yerself caught out here alone.” Gus continued with a pointed look as he and Nash heft the wendigo onto the cart. “The danger’s passed fer now, but there’s a lot of angry folk milling about, ya hear me? I’ll be along quick as I can.” Benji understood his meaning. People weren’t often comfortable with revenants at the best of times, when they were scared and angry that discomfort could turn into something else much more dangerous.

“Of course.” Benji nodded at the older man’s warning, carefully putting the knife away before turning back to Simon and Arthur, extending his hands to grasp theirs as he turned them to the other exit to the alley. “I think it’s best we go this way.”


------------

As the last of the danger seemed to have passed, the people of Blackwater began to emerge. From the wreckage of some of the damaged shops, and other hiding spots, more and more anxious faces ventured out, trying to get a glimpse of the aftermath from the attack they’d just suffered. A quick scan of the area to check over the living people assembled had Darcy satisfied they weren’t dealing with any life threatening injuries at the moment. David seemed to have the most serious wound among them, so once they got a doc flagged down, he’d take priority. Ushering David over to a bench by the saloon, Darcy set her pack down and began rummaging to see what supplies she even had that could be counted as medical. Outside of a needle and thread and spare shirt (Which given the state of her own with the left sleeve torn clear to ribbons, she may be needing herself after a bit.), things didn’t look promising. Another glance down the street, and she could see Doc Anderson was busy with some other survivors, and from the amount of blood she could see from even this far away, it looked like he'd be busy for a while. Gus was also nowhere in sight.

“Hey bring out some clean water, soap, linens, and whisky would you?!” Darcy called out to another hunter she knew in passing as he stumbled out of the saloon. Dale something, shaky hands, but a surprisingly steady shot. He nodded quickly before running back inside to fetch what she’d asked.

“Alright, let’s get that thing off.” Darcy turned back to David, indicating his shirt. “We might be on the waiting list, but we can at least try and get that wound cleaned up.” The requested supplies had just arrived when a woman approached, calling out a greeting and asking after them. Darcy turned to face her and stopped short.

Another one? One glance at the woman’s eyes was all it took for Darcy to know she was now face to face with yet another revenant. Living with one hadn’t exactly robbed the mystique of that whole condition for Darcy, as the Lewis siblings had never exactly sought them out for guidance on Benji’s situation, but it did make her conscious to be polite. Watching how people treated Benji with general unease or outright hostility, changed Darcy’s outlook on some things. There might be some aspects of that whole business Darcy found uncomfortable, but she wasn’t going to flinch away from them either.

“Thanks.” Darcy offered with a hand extended out in greeting, eye contact firmly maintained. “Darcy Lewis. Good to meet you Red.” She continued, giving the woman a full glance over as she noticed the bandaged shoulder. It was good work, whoever had done it, but there were already spots of blood seeping through the bandages, so that wound had to be nasty.

“Are you okay?” Darcy asked, a little incredulous, shifting to take a closer look. That had to be incredibly painful. How was she standing here talking so nonchalantly and asking after them?! Darcy had heard revenents had a pretty high pain threshold, but this was insane.

“I think you should come over here and take a seat. We’ll get a doctor to take a look at that.” Darcy said firmly with a pointedly stubborn look. Picking up her pack to make room on the bench, she patted the spot in a manner more order than invitation.

------

Benji hadn’t really been sure what to talk about as they made their way around to the main street. Darcy had a talent for clever words that reminded him of their creek, flowing, babbling along as it surged and adapted to always find a clear path forward. He felt stilted by comparison, never sure if what he’d said was about to cause awkward silence or offense. Sometimes people laughed, which wasn’t so bad. It never stopped him from speaking, but for one he very much cared about his words' reception. So far, Simon seemed interested enough.

“The trick is to never let the Blue Jays catch on first. They never play fair with the other birds, but the Crows will sometimes bring presents if they decide to stay and like the food enough.” Benji chattered on as they carefully discussed the woods near his home.

“So they’ll just come to your hand?” Simon asked a little awed, both hands held in a gentle grip from his two rescuers.

“Some will. Once they know you better.” Benji amended, not wanting to get the boy’s hopes up too high for a first attempt. Once they made it to the main street, it became clear Gus was right, there were suddenly quite a number of people out on the street. Back by Addie’s saloon, he could see a few familiar faces, his sister’s included, and he was relieved to see she looked relatively unharmed. He navigated them along the less crowded parts of the street, careful to avoid the wendigo corpse and sheriff’s men milling about as they went.

“I’m glad you aren’t too injured.” Benji said by way of greeting when they reached the bench Darcy appeared to have claimed with a pair of unfamiliar faces. He glanced at them curiously with a smile before looking back to his sister, who’d turned immediately to start checking him over zealously for injuries. “I’m not hurt.” Benji said patiently, used to the treatment by now.

”I got worried when you didn’t come back.” Darcy confessed, noting the man with him before turning to the child, the same boy who’d thrown the rock at the wendigo in the street.

“This is Simon.” Her brother introduced solemnly. “He’s going to be staying with us.” He continued with a finality that had Darcy reeling a moment to catch up. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Benji’s eyes said, and between that, and this Simon’s hopeful puppy dog eyes peering up at her, Darcy was left defenseless. She gave her brother a slightly sour look, wishing they’d at least had a chance to talk about options first before making big public promises in front of the kid, but her eyes softened when they met Simon’s. “It’s alright kiddo. We’re going to make sure you’re taken care of alright.” She confirmed with a soft smile for him.


“Who’s your friend?” Darcy asked, glancing over at the other man holding Simon’s hand.

---

---

Arthur walked with Benji and Simon in content silence, absorbed in this separate realm of existence the three of them had formed. Birds had become the topic of conversation, it seemed, and he was continually taken aback by just how gentle this man seemed in comparison to the widely-circulated opinion that all Revenants were nothing but cold-hearted brutes. His brain worked hard to conjure up the image of Benji standing with his hands cupped together, cooing at a Blue Jay, and unknowingly smiled as it formed inside his mind. Part of him hoped that picture would stick with him for a while. It would make a decent sketch for his journal, he thought.

For just a single moment, Arthur was hit with an abrupt and unwanted feeling of dread… or perhaps it was sadness. A sudden remembrance of his first and only rule: never get attached to people. This man had captured his attention to such an extent that he’d momentarily forgotten himself. It was a rule Arthur had first made for the pair after Harlan’s brilliant idea to travel with his old crew, a mismatch of hunters and outlaws; and one by one they’d either been killed, succumbed to illness, or outright disappeared. People he’d considered family for many years… just gone. He was never quite able to get over the heartbreak each time, but fought like hell to make sure it didn’t turn him into the same cynical asshole his father had become. Still, he had his own walls to maintain, and for good reason.

It wasn’t long before Arthur was being led in the direction of a young blonde-haired woman, a stunning beauty in her own right, and someone that Benji seemed to know quite well. This must have been the sister he’d heard about earlier, during the brief conversation with those men he didn’t recognise, but that Benji also seemed to know. Arthur hadn’t said a word then, nor after the fact, and he only continued to maintain his silence. His eyes glanced between the two siblings as they exchanged concern for one another’s wellbeing. Simon had also been introduced by Benji, who had seemingly now taken responsibility for the boy, much to Arthur’s relief. Even keeping his rule in mind, he wasn’t one to abandon a child, especially after the life he’d led to that point. It was just nice to know that Simon had people who could protect him, and give him a better life than he'd find in the orphanage.

Arthur’s mind wandered to the whereabouts of his own father, and scanned the rooftops in search of him. Strangely, he was nowhere to be seen, but Arthur merely figured that he was making his way down. When the woman’s voice called attention to him, he felt compelled to extend his free hand towards her; a polite gesture that he accompanied with a well-meaning smile. “I’m Arthur,” he answered. “A pleasure to meet you, miss, in spite of the circumstances.”

---

---

As far as Harlan could see, that was the last of the wendigos taken care of. He surveyed the street below for a couple moments more, just to be on the safe side, then slung his rifle over his shoulder and made his way down to street level. He pushed through the doors of the saloon, taking note of each of the small pairs and groups that had begun congregating in the aftermath of the attack. “Where’d that damn kid get off to?” he grumbled under his breath, eyes actively searching for the familiar face of his son.

When he eventually spotted Arthur, Harlan's instinctive response was a sudden eruption of laughter. A deep, throaty guffaw that felt entirely unwelcome among the frightened — and frankly exhausted — civilians of Blackwater. Their collective sharp-as-daggers stares and muttered accusations of insanity did little to quiet his display of amusement. “I left you alone for two seconds, and you've already gone an' found yerself a nice little family, I see,” he hollered, walking towards the group at a somewhat leisurely pace. He was wearing a grin at this point, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Ya'know, I should'a known there was some gay in ya, son. Is this why you ain't taken a woman yet?”

Arthur stood in stunned silence for a moment, then his expression twisted into one of barely-contained annoyance. He released his hold on Simon's hand and closed the distance between himself and his father, placing a hand on his chest to keep him a fair distance from Benji. The movement of his arm sent a jolt of pain through to his shoulder and he furrowed his brows, stifling a grunt, but tried not to pay it too much more attention. "Not in front of the kid, please," he begged, casting a momentary glance behind himself.

Harlan held his hands up in a show of surrender, but had noted the stiffness of Arthur's arm and felt a pang of concern. "You're hurt?" he asked, the volume of his voice dropped to a near whisper. He placed his hand rather gingerly on Arthur’s shoulder, fingers giving it a gentle squeeze to gauge how much pain it was causing him. The lad winced a little but didn’t kick up much of a fuss. “It’s just a nasty bruise, that’s all,” he explained, placing a hand over his father’s and patting it once. It didn’t do much to alleviate Harlan’s overall concern, however, as his focus shifted to Arthur’s clothing which had become soiled with mud and muck. Credit where it was due, the boy was holding it together well enough, but he wondered how long that act would hold up if he couldn’t get cleaned up any time soon. “A warm bath then,” Harlan announced, “and it’ll be right as rain by the mornin’, I bet.” It seemed to merit a somewhat hesitant nod of agreement from his son.

With that more or less dealt with for the time being, Harlan wanted nothing more than to get off the street. Call it pure intuition or just enough experience dealing with angry crowds to spot one forming ahead of time, but something was telling him that he didn’t wanna be caught up in whatever was about to happen. “You should get outta here while you can,” he began again, this time turning his full attention to the blonde from earlier. He had absolutely no intention of making a formal introduction, but felt obligated to warn her anyhow. "This many hunters in one place is bound to cause a commotion, we ain't welcome."

david arthurs

outfit | #3e5c59

Even if the wound wasn’t affecting him anywhere near as much as it would have affected a normal human, David hadn’t fully realised how bad he did feel until he sat down and felt a little better. Darcy didn’t seem to have much in the way of medical supplies, but she yelled out an order for someone to go get supplies for her.

Getting his shirt off was easier said than done, even if it was basically torn to shreds already. Stretching his torso even slightly hurt like hell, but he managed to pull it off. As he did so and tossed the ruined clothes to one side, breathing heavily with the pain, a woman called out to them and made her way over. He raised his eyebrows as he caught a glimpse of her eyes. By the looks of things, there were more Revenants than usual in town. Probably part of the reason they’d fared so well in the attack, really. He returned as the woman introduced herself as Red.

“David Arthurs,” he said briefly in return. “And it’s just a scratch, really,” he said drily, glancing down at his side. He wasn’t sure if it just looked worse than it was or if it was really just that bad, but he knew that he’d gotten lucky. A few more seconds and the damage could have been bad enough that even he wouldn’t have survived it.

Red apparently had a wound of her own that Darcy deemed bad enough to check over, but before she could do so, three newcomers arrived, two men and a kid, holding their hands. David quickly retrieved his shirt and pressed it to the wound so the kid couldn’t see it, even if his attention seemed to be focused on the two men he was with. David took a minute to assess them. One was tall, dark, and handsome, and almost impossibly neat, even despite the dirt that was on his clothes. David liked a guy that put in at least a little bit of an effort.

Something about the other man took him aback, and it took him a minute to pinpoint that was a contrast. David wouldn’t have even had him pegged as a hunter- so the fact he had distinctive grey eyes threw David. He hadn’t met any other revenants, but they all seemed to have a distinctive look.

Judging by Darcy’s behaviour, she knew the Revenant, and glancing between them, he could see the family resemblance. He introduced the kid as Simon and declared he would be staying with them, and David was surprised when Darcy just seemed to roll with that. The other man introduced himself as Arthur.

And then another older man arrived. His initial comment made David tense up for a moment as he warily watched them for a moment or two, but Arthur’s response made him relax a little. The man seemed to be a relative of Arthur’s, and the sudden influx of concerned family members was beginning to make David feel like he was intruding. Taking another glance at the wounds, he figured that he could probably sort himself out just fine. He’d only stocked up on medical supplies a week or two ago.

“Hey so, uh, you all seem busy, I’ll leave you to it-” he started, only to stand up a little quickly and pull on the wounds. He gasped in pain, gripping the back of the bench for a second or two until the worst of it passed, having to bite back vulgarities. “I’m fine, really,” he said as soon as he could speak again, not quite sure if he was trying to convince himself or the others.

“Darcy Lewis.” The hunter answered, catching this Arthur’s hand for a firm but comfortable shake. Polite and sturdy were Darcy’s first impressions, and she gave an answering smile of her own as they exchanged pleasantries. “Likewise. I assume you’re who I have to thank for keeping this one out of trouble?” Her tone was light, but the gratitude was genuine as her green eyes shifted back to her brother, who indeed appeared to be unharmed, almost miraculously so given what they’d faced in the streets.

“Arthur’s rescue was very timely.” Benji added helpfully with a smile, before turning his curious gaze to the two individuals his sister had cowed into sitting on the bench. A quick glance at their eyes told him they were both Revenants. That was interesting. Benji hadn’t had many dealings with others like himself, and now there were suddenly two sitting right there, injured and properly corralled by his sister. The sight was almost comical.

The arrival of the next man however was less so, despite his attempt at humor. Benji had tensed at first, unsure of this stranger’s intent, but his shoulder relaxed at Arthur’s apparent familiarity with the older hunter. The gentle touches and assessing eyes were easy to overlook, but Benji had been on the receiving end from Darcy enough times to recognize a gruff intimacy shared between family. They weren’t being threatened.

“Did I tell you to move?” Darcy snapped, as both the geniuses on her bench decided clamoring to their feet while bleeding out from nasty wendigo wounds was just a swell idea. Tough as nails or not, they weren't going anywhere until they'd gotten at least some basic care. She already had a clean rag dampened with the strongest proof liquor Dale could find behind Addie’s counter. Red seemed to think David’s wound would heal up fine on it’s own, which was true enough, Darcy was familiar with Revenents, and knew how fast they healed comparatively. A glance at the wound with his shirt off made Darcy think it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, which was a good sign, but there’s was no reason to take needless risks by not a least cleaning and wrapping it up.

“This is gonna sting.” Darcy warned, bringing the dry side of the cloth down to wipe away the blood first, then the damp side to cleanse it as best she could. It already looked a little better than it had a bit ago, though she doubted David was going to feel good anytime soon. Once that was done, Darcy turned to Benji, pointing at the linens. “Think you can wrap his wound up while I take a look at Red?” Benji nodded solemnly, picking up the clean bandages and moving over to David.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.” Benji said kindly as he began wrapping bandages carefully around the wounded man’s torso. “I’m Benji by the way. Good to meet you.”

Darcy hadn’t made it much past wincing while Red undid her bandages before the man who’d bustled in a moment ago addressed her with a careful warning. She recognized him as the sniper on the roof from earlier who'd helped her kill the first wendigo in the street, and she stood by her original assessment that he was clearly an experienced hunter, if lacking in a general sense of tact based on his entrance. This close up, a quick glance told her he was a bit older, but also framed with obvious muscle, observant dark eyes, and a pair of smugly quirked cupid bow lips full enough to --Nope, full stop. That line of thinking was definitely not helpful, and Darcy blamed the day’s insane influx of adrenaline for indulging it as far as she had.

“Right...gratitude has never been a Blackwater specialty.” Darcy agreed dryly with the sound advice, tearing her eyes away to scan the growing crowd. The sooner they could move inside the better, but there was no way she and Benji were going to be able to leave town until at earliest tomorrow. Given the pensive faces glancing back their way from the crowd, Darcy found that reality regrettable, but one familiar face helped ease her rising tension. As Gus steered the wagon up the street their way, Darcy rummaged out a few coins and turned to Simon.

“Hey kiddo, I’ve got a job for you. Think you’re up for it?” Darcy asked carefully. When Simon nodded, with serious brown eyes older than a kid his age should have, she placed the coins in his hand and jerked a thumb back toward Addie’s saloon. “I need you to head inside and find Miss Addie. You give her those, and tell her Darcy needs a room. Once that’s done I need you to scout it out and make sure everything’s in good shape okay. Can you help me out with that?” He nodded again, and task given, Simon took the coins before bounding inside the saloon to do as he was asked.

Gus parked the wagon with its grizzly cargo just a little ways off, before climbing down with his surgery bag and moving toward them. “Oh good ya are alive. Nice ta know the Lewis clan is too stubborn to die as usual, no matter how half cocked the lot of ya like runnin’ into danger the first chance ya get!” Gus wasted no time laying in as he glanced at Red’s shoulder and started digging through his bag. “Flying in with no backup, no cover, against two fuckin’ wendigos...I outta tear ya a new one.” Gus groused in a way only a curmudgeonly grandfather can really pull off. “And I would, but ya got trouble heading yer way. Nash was lookin’ for ya, which means Reyens is. I shook ‘im for a head start, but he ain’t too far behind.” He said looking sour.

The name Reynes made Darcy grimace. “The hell does he want?” She bit out harsher than she’d meant to, but she’d been free of that man for years, and she sure as hell didn’t want anything to do with him now.

“My guess, it’s about the kid that brother of yours picked up. Boy’s mama was one of his girls.” Gus warned softly, pulling out a needle, thread, and some honest to god rubbing alcohol from his bag as he turned to address Red’s shoulder as best he could.

“Fuck…” Darcy swore under her breath, suddenly very glad she’d sent Simon to relative safety inside the saloon. Gus didn’t have to say the obvious, no one worked as a girl down at the Red Pony unless they owed Malachi Reynes more money than they knew how to pay back, and he wasn’t the type to let debts die with the parent. She should know.

“Well, isn’t this quite the intimate little gathering.” A voice called out of the crowd as a dark, impeccably dressed figure sauntered up their way. “I had hoped to discuss a matter of business with you Miss Lewis, but I fear the surprise may have been ruined somewhat.” He drawled, ringed fingers fiddling idly with the jeweled crow head of his cane.

“Condolences appear to be in order for the passing of Miss Tessa Grey, my deepest sympathies of course. There is however, the matter of her debt, which I fear still needs resolved.” Darcy strode out to meet him before he fully made it to the group, trying to create as much of a barrier between their injured party, and the predator in their midst, that she could.

“Her body’s not even cold yet, and you’re shaking her kid down for money?” Darcy spit back, unable to hide the disgust she felt from her eyes. Her look managed to be more diplomatic than Benji’s though. No one could see the look in his silver eyes as he gazed at Reynes as anything less than loathing.

“I’m afraid the interest rate on her initial loan does not favor such niceties, as the total has already reached a not inconsequential Seventy Five dollars. I’m sure the boy and I can come to an arrangement though on how to most...expediently pay off such a large sum.” Darcy swallowed bile at that thinly veiled suggestion, managing to keep her lip from curling in an outright snear.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Darcy stated firmly, standing as a physical barrier between Reynes and the rest of the group as much as possible. She knew how he played this game, and leverage was always key. “I imagine reclaiming whatever you convinced that poor woman to buy from you in the first place-”

“A sewing machine.” Reynes supplied helpfully in a jovial tone that belied the fact this was just a game for him, an amusing opportunity to pass the time in the presence of those who could not afford to escape it. It made a temper flare in Darcy all over again, but she knew better than to fall into that trap.

“Will be the quickest way to do that. Take it, and anything else valuable in their house, and fuck off.” Darcy finished dryly. “Odds are, you’ll come out on top with that, and if not, I’ll cover the difference.”

“That’s an interesting...first offer.” Reynes grinned, trying to lean into her space. It was a common power play she’d seen the man use a hundred times, but Darcy wasn’t fifteen anymore, and knew better than to shrink away, even if his close proximity made her skin crawl.

“Only offer.” Darcy growled back quietly. “Take the deal, and leave him the hell alone, or I swear, I will kick up such a holy goddamn fuss in town about what we both know goes on in that backroom, that even your buddy Jamison won’t shield you from the storm if you even look in Simon’s direction wrong” Threats were a gambit, but Darcy was betting the potential trouble would outweigh any benefit for dragging this game out much longer.


“And you know what happens if you choose that route. Hardly a sunset ending my dear.” He replied softly, his dangerous tone. Malachi Reynes never yelled before he killed people.

“You’re not getting him either way. Take it or leave it.” Darcy repeated firmly, trying to appear more confident in her bluff than she felt.

Silence hung heavily for a few moments, until: “Well then, it appears we have a solution. That’s what I always liked about you my dear, you always had a talent for figuring out how to pay off other peoples’ debts.” Reynes replied with a cutting smile. “You may find yourself in the coming days, in need of a powerful friend Miss Lewis, a...benefactor if you will. I look back on our past association quite fondly, and would not be adverse to renewing it once again. Same terms.”


“I’ll pass, thanks.” Darcy offered a caustic grin of her own, before turning on her heel and back to Gus, refusing to look back to see if Reyes was still lingering about.


“There, it’s handled. How’s the shoulder?” Darcy shifted back to the more immediate problem at hand. It still looked painful and angry to Darcy’s eye, with no amount of stitching able to hide the chuck just missing, but she could see where Gus had cleaned and stitched what he could, as he began rewrapping Red’s shoulder.

david arthurs

outfit | #3e5c59

David just raised an eyebrow as Red told him to just give it a minute and not let it get any worse, but smirked as she said she should probably let Darcy look over hers as well. It came across like she was trying to set a good example or something for him, which was, frankly, amusing to say the least. But he did as he was told and sat back down as Darcy snapped at him to do so.

The woman from the general store- Temperance, wasn’t it?- approached them and handed Red back her gun, telling them that if they needed anything from the store, it was theirs. David nodded. “Thank you very much, ma’am. Think I’ve got everything I need for now but it’s appreciated.”

He nodded at Darcy’s warning that it was going to sting, but it still didn’t fully prepare him. He clenched his jaw and bit back an exclamation as the alcohol hit the wounds, telling himself that the sting would likely be worth it. Even if he did heal much much quicker these days, he’d seen the damage infected wounds could do.

She moved on to checking out the other Revenant, and the man David had guessed was her brother took her place to wrap them. David nodded as the man told him to let him know if they were too tight and introduced himself as Benji. “David,” he said by way of introduction. “Thanks,” he added. The bandages were tight but not uncomfortably so, probably better wrapped than if he’d done it himself. “You’ve got a knack for this, you know that?”

At the mention of Malachi Reynes, David could feel himself involuntarily tensing up. Reynes has been hanging around the ranch the day after his mother died, talking about how David was probably gonna need a bit of help with things and how money had to be tight. He’d made plenty of inferences about how a “handsome boy like him” could earn his keep. But his mother had warned him never to accept a penny from that man. He’d been offering them help ever since her husband had died and she’d told him where to shove it on a number of occasions. And so David gave exactly the same response when Reynes made his offer to him, embellishing it with a few choice words that made his feelings clear and probably would have made his mother gasp.

And it appeared there was no love lost between anyone else in the group and Reynes. If Darcy’s tone didn’t give it away, the look of pure hatred that Benji shot the man would have done. Reynes’ sickening tone and the implication of what he had in mind practically turned David’s stomach. But Darcy knew how to handle him, and she didn’t seem intimidated by him in the slightest. He’d clearly met his match in her. As Reynes turned to leave, he caught David’s eye and raised an eyebrow, wearing the shadow of a smirk. David just glowered at him as he walked away.

“Well, sure is good to see someone who’s not afraid to stand up to that bastard,” David remarked. “If y’all want somewhere to lay low, though, I got a few spare rooms. As he said,” he said, nodding at the older man that he was guessing was a relative of Arthur’s, “Folks around these parts ain’t exactly hospitable at the best times, especially if you’ve got Malachi Reynes on your bad side.”