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.
"What do you think they're talking about?" Bill pondered, watching as Dutch removed the pins from his canvas, letting the walls slip down and shielding them both out of sight.
"Nothing good." Micah returned, sitting back down and stared at the tent, waiting to see what she would be like once she comes out.
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"Natasha, is there.... Is there anything you need?"
"No." She answered bluntly, her body poised on the chair in his tent, her fists were clenched, her tanned skin turning as white as snow the more she embedded her nails into the palms of her hands.
Dutch stood tall, slowly pacing the tent. He knew he had to speak to her about what happened but even himself was finding it hard to come to terms with everything.
She slumped back, her foot tapping along the wooden floor, her heart was racing and her mind was flourished with understated thoughts. "She almost killed me because of you, Dutch."
She lifted her head, her eyes were narrowed, cold and hard as she stared at the man in front of her like he was now an enemy.
Dutch drew in a deep breath, the burning stare she was giving him making him uncomfortable as the truth was slowly being unveiled in front of him.
He never did speak to Molly when he said he would have. He should have noticed that she had vanished but all he could focus on was Natasha and the twisted relationship she had with Micah.
"I know, Natasha. I know." He sighed, sitting on the edge of his cot, his fingers laced together. "I'm sorry for what you went through, truly. I was going to kill her myself for getting Hosea killed and betraying us, honestly."
Natasha listened to his false apology, wanting to believe the words he was saying to her but she didn't. she didn't believe that he was sorry for what she went through. The only thing she could accept was that he would have killed her; she was just glad she killed her first, deep down.
"I think you should stay in camp for a while, just take some time away-"
"No." She spoke, cutting him off from finishing his sentence. Her foot had stopped tapping, her head was now tilted to the side but only slightly so her hat didn't fall off the side of her head. "I want to go hunting, we need food."
Dutch licked at his lower lip, watching darkness circulate her eyes but he knew he was in no current position to refuse her for leaving the camp.
"Alright Miss. Don't stray too far."
Natasha nodded sternly and left the tent in a blink of an eye.
Micah watched Natasha storm back over to their tent so he took this as his chance to speak to her.
He followed her with haste, breaking out of conversation with Pearson and Bill and burst through the canvas.
He watched as she rummaged through their guns which were positioned at the back of the tent. She lifted up a rifle, looking through the scope before attaching it to her back.
"What are you doin'?" Micah questioned the woman, a concerned look on his face as she piles throwing knives into her satchel, stuffing her pockets with ammo and grabbing some arrows.
"going huntin'." She said as if it was obvious, her tone short with him as she didn't spare a glance as she stayed crouched down collecting everything she needed.
"I think you should rest-"
"I think you should shut up." She answered abruptly, pausing her movement as her head snapped to his, her eyes showing no remorse in her words.
Micah would usually hit someone if they spoke to him like that but although his hand twitched, he maintained his composure and gave her an amused look. "I think you should up and listen to me for a change."
Natasha didn't reply, she instead looked away and stood up, going to push past him to het through but he quickly stopped her by suspending his arm out, her stomach pressing against his forearm.
"Move."
"Make me."
Natasha slowly looked to the side to meet Micah's gaze, a part of her getting lot in his ocean eyes and the tainted smirk on his rugged face. "Don't say that." She muttered, looking away shyly as his hand latches onto her waist, engulfing her into his body.
"Well I just did." He says cunningly, his hand reaching up her back and holding the back of her neck. "Seriously though, I think you need to rest after yesterday." He closesed the gap between them, resting his forehead against hers as if trying to rummage inside her mind, wondering what it was she was thinking. "I'm worried about ya."
"You've gone soft." She muttered, her hot breath hitting his lips, the want for her increasing more and more as he rubbed slow circles in her back.
"You say that like it's a bad thing, sweetheart." He breathed, touching his lips to hers but it was shortlived as she pulled away, slightly too quickly for his liking.
He frowened, deep creases forming at the edge of his eyes as she pulled away from him completely, instantly taking offence.
"Hey?" He asked confused, wondering why she had pulled away like she did as if his lips had poisoned hers.
"S-sorry, I really got to go." Natasha looked at him, a guilty look on her face upon seeing his rejection filled expression so she made it up to him and kissed his cheek before gliding past him and over to the horses.
Micah remained where he was, dumstruck and tunred on his heel as he watched her leave.
"Hey Natasha." Kieran breathed as he pulled out the knots of his horses mane, his lips pulled into a straight line upon seeing the look on her once bright face. "You alright?"
"I'm fine, Kieran." She mutterd, not sparing a glance at the kid as she untethered the American Paint and mounting up.
As she was about to leave, she pulled on the reins and stopped her horse from walking away and watched as Kieran sat on a stool, mashing some herbs together; most likely Burdock root. "H-hey, Kieran?"
The young man looked up, his one eye landing on the woman who was slumped in her saddle slightly, a defeated look on her face, "what is it?"
"Are you... afraid of me? Because of what I did?"
Kieran placed the bowl on the floor beside him and stood, walking over to the woman, showing no sign of hesitations as he placed his hand on her tightly gripped one that was on the leather fabric of the rein. "Of course I ain't. What she did was wrong, I'm sure anyone would have done what you did if it was put on 'em." He said with a reassuring voice, his lips in a soft smile as his thumb rubbed gently against the back of her hand. "I will respect you for what you have done for me, no word of a lie abou' that."
Natasha, for the first time in a while, smile full-heartedly, her teeth showing but only slightly as she looked away from Kieran, a sense of comfort fulfilling her temporarily. "Thank you, Kieran." She takes one last look at camp and at Kieran before she pulls her horse into a trot, ready to bring home something good for the camp.
She rode for a while, letting her mind clear out as she took in the nature around her, the soft whistling of songbirds ringing in her ears as she bonded with her horse, still unsure what she should name her for the time being.
She found a quiet place over towards the Heartlands, she knew she shouldn't have strayed too far from camp but she knew this was the best place to hunt for animals.
She dismounted and let her horse roam around as she mounted up onto a small cliff face, laying flat on her stomach as she pulled her rifle into position and scanning the area for a doe or a buck.
She smirked to herself as she noticed a buck come into view, it's horns on its head slightly cracked from most likely fighting with another buck in the past.
She pulled her eye away from the long scope, cracking her neck to the side and controlled her breathing, her finger twitching over the trigger as she readied herself.
She watched the dear closely, waiting for a perfect moment for it to stop walking and eat at the grass and when it did, she waited for the wind to compensate with her breath before a loud crack is sent through the air, the bullet leaving the chamber but the shot wasn't clean.
The bullet shot through the top of the bucks neck, creating a gaping hole in the bullets wake. The buck let out a cry, falling to the ground but it's legs scattered outward as it tried to run but it only toppled to the floor once more, it's legs kicking back and forth.
She sighed to herself, feeling ashamed she didn't get a clean shot as she anticipated so when she brought the scope back up to her eye, her finger toying with the trigger as she tried to compose herself, something snapped.
As she stared at the buck, the more she found that her finger didn't want to press down.
She sat.
And watched.
Her heart pumped against her chest like a monkey inside a cage, begging to get out but her lips parted as she watched the life slowly drain from the animal.
The slow pulsing of the buck showed, it's breath becoming rigged as her brain screamed at her to 'shoot it! What are you waiting for? Goddamn shoot it!' But her finger wouldn't budge. The animal laid there, it's eyes watching around for a predator to emerge but none did. The predator itself was her, watching from afar and doing nothing to end its life quickly. After a minute, the animal finally laid to rest.
She slowly lifted her head, her mouth still parted as she slowly came to realisation what she had just done.
She dropped her rifle onto the grass and rolled onto her back, her hands flying up to her face, shielding her eyes from the light. Her lips trembled but only slightly as she sucked in a deep breath, controlling herself and her breathing before sitting up. She collected her things and made her way down towards the buck, her heart throbbing with every step she took.
She stopped just a bit away from the duck, seeing its eyes rolled into the back of its head as the blood began to soak the fur on his neck.
"Sorry lad." She muttered, withdrawing her knife and beginning to gut the animal.
She slid her knife along the belly, the blade penetrating the skin as it peeled open, bloody slowly seeping out so it gave her enough time to get the valuable parts of meat without it being completely bloodstained.
She wrapped the pieces of meat in rags, securing it properly with some string and whistled for her mare to come over. When she does, she places the meat in the saddle bag and mounts up and gets ready to leave until a man on a horse slowly approaches her.
"Excuse me partner!" The man called out to her and she looks up, surprised to hear another voice and looks at the man sceptically as he slowly approached her.
"I seem to have gotten myself lost... I don't suppose you can guide me in the direction to Valentine."
She blinked, staring at the man. His hair was dirty blonde, a long blonde beard to match. She could see the dirt under his fingernails from where she was, he was slightly old but there was something odd about him and she couldn't figure out what.
She simply lifted up her hand and pointed her hand to the right, "straight that way, you'll see the tracks so just follow them." She mentioned, getting ready to ride away but as she turned away she heard the man sigh to himself.
"I'd sure appreciate a pretty young thing like yourself to take me there? Maybe we could get a roo-"
Without hesitation, without thinking about any rash choices, she placed her hand in her satchel and pulled out a throwing knife and whipped around in her saddle, hitting the man square in the head before he could finish his sentence.
The man let out a heavy gasp, her throwing knife being wedged into the centre of his skull, his hands shaking as he fell off his horse, gasping for air.
She dismounted too and stared down at him, tilting her head to the side. "What's wrong?"
The man blinked, the bags of his eyes twitching as his hands raked through the grass beneath him as he tried to grasp onto anything for the sake of his life as he stared at the woman who not hovered above him.
"The fuck is... your... problem?" He grunted, attempting to sit up, Natasha almost impressed at how slow it was for him to die with a knife in his head.
"Nothing... I just don't like people wasting my time." She whispered sinisterly, her boot raising and pressing against the handle of the blade, wedging it in further as the man let out a hearty groan and a loud crack was heard as she pierced the skull, killing him completely.
She looted his body, not particularly happy with sixty two cents and a bottle of whisky but it was better than nothing.
She shoved the money in her pocket and went over to her mare who was slightly agitated but with a gentle pat, she was easy to settle down.
"What should we call you? Hm?" She whispered as she mounted up, her arms resting on the horn of the saddle as she stared down at the man she just killed, nothing really coming to her mind as she stared at him.
"How about.... Missy?" She asked the horse but of course, she didn't reply. "Too plain, I guess." She frowned.
"Betty? Dotty?"
She turned her horse around and processed to put her into a canter, getting as far from the crime scene as she can.
"How about Sunday? Since it is Sunday?" She said aloud, mainly talking to herself at this point but as her ears pricked forwards upon hearing the name, she had it settled.
It was becoming an odd time for Natasha. She noticed something change in her when she watched that Buck die and without even hesitation or kindly declining the mans offer, she had killed him as if he was just a fly buzzing around her momentarily.
She tried not to think about her brutal killings, nobody at camp had to know and for an odd reason, she felt better. She felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders when she watched them die.
As she approached camp some time later, she slung her bag of meat on to Pearson's wagon who gave her an appreciate nod and she walked straight to her tent, noticing that Micah was slumped on the cot, snoozing away.
She quietly placed her weapons away and moved her satchel to a chair as she bent over and unlaced her boots, sliding them off and cracking her neck from left to right, a built up tension causing strain on her neck.
She sat in silence, listing to the soft snores of Micah and she glanced over at him, her heart tearing as she thought of the worse possible scansion; losing him.
"If you ever betray me, Micah..." She whispered, her finger running through his blonde hair gently, watching him relax under her touch as if all the demons inside him was sucked away by an angel, "I will kill you."