Chapter Text
Her claws raked through packed sand, eyes glued to the tracks she was hunting. The full moon hung low, its silvery hues bouncing off her coat with a sheen radiant enough to put even the finest filigree to shame. The moon was even generous enough to have blessed every stone and bush with spired shadows that stretched long across the sand. A good omen for a ‘jackal’ like her.
A slight breeze worked its way between the hairs of her coat, keeping her cool on the hunt. It was the only time of day an absol like her could traverse this land freely. The days were much too hot. Even the midnight air was often too warm and dry - a constant reminder that she had no business being in a place like this.
Not that she had a choice. There were no jobs to be had in the temperate climates once the winter months rolled in. She would starve long before she had a chance to see the new year. Bounty postings in these backwater towns were the only way to tide her over in the winter months. It was far from desirable, but that’s why it paid well. So well, in fact, that as soon as she heard the commotion in the streets about a bounty that was put out for a clueless young boy, she ran after his tracks without a second thought.
Unfortunately, she was beginning to realize that maybe a second thought might have been more fitting. She hoped this would be a quick job, but it was fast becoming clear that this little game might persist well into the morning. She had been following his tracks for an hour and still hadn’t found him. He was a fast mover, she’d give him that. If he had any clue how to hide his tracks, she’d probably have to give up the hunt entirely.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to. She followed the tracks up a hill and looked out over the horizon. At the base of a nearby hill, a small campfire flickered.
No way he’s that stupid. She thought.
A decoy? Maybe. Could be a trap, too. She doubted he was smart enough though. Truth be told, it probably wasn’t even him. She settled on cautiously approaching the campfire and investigating the area around it. If nothing else, she could steal whatever she needed from the campsite before picking up on his trail again.
She shuffled down the hill, her pace steadily quickening. Sharp stones jabbed into her paws as she broke out into a sprint. As luck would have it, his trail was leading right to the fire. She only slowed herself when she was within earshot of the campfire, and ducked behind a nearby bush, observing silently.
Next to the fire sat a croagunk, staring at the campfire. A bright red bandana hung loosely around his neck. Sure as shit, this was him. Step by step she snuck around the underbrush, circling around the campsite in a wide arc. Her eyes fixated upon him and nothing else. Her senses grew more acute as the adrenaline of combat seeped into her veins. The hairs on her body stood on end. Her heart thumped steadily in her ears, growing louder with every quiet step she took.
Quick and easy Sam, just like all the others.
She stalked from shadow to shadow, never giving the campfire the satisfaction of seeing her for long. With careful steps, she managed to sneak within ten feet of the croagunk without making a sound. She lowered her head, leveling her horn at the young man’s back. A single strike was all she needed. She shifted her body and prepared to lurch forward. This was it.
And then, her legs locked up. She couldn’t move.
Quick. And. Easy.
Guilt wrested control of her body. It was no use. She knew those words were a lie. Sure it may be quick, but it was anything but easy. Outlaws? Bandits? Not a problem. She could even justify the sleazeballs that constantly tried to get with her. But this? This was just a boy barely able to make sense of the world - a boy with his whole life ahead of him.
Bounty be damned, there was no justice to be had in this and she knew it.
Sam closed her eyes, a silent sigh escaping her lips. Her face ran hot with an odd mixture of remorse and pity. She couldn’t do it. Not like this. She pulled her head up and took one last silent step towards the young croagunk, standing only an arms length away from him.
Sam sucked in a deep breath and put on her best southern accent. “Hey.”
The croagunk jumped in his seat. He scurried away and whipped around, cheeks bloated as he took a low stance. “Who’s there!?”
“Hey! Hey! Easy! I’m just seein’ if you got room by the fire for one more!”
The croagunk bared his teeth. “‘Pends on who's askin’.”
She lurked just beyond the light of the fire. “I’m just a wanderer lookin’ for a place to lay my head.”
“Why don’t you step on into the light so I can see for myself, young lady.”
So much for quick and easy... She walked forward until she could feel the heat of the flames on her coat. The croagunk’s eyes went wide at the revelation of who stood before him.
“I-I know who you are! Ain’t no way yer takin’ me back, Sam!”
“I’m not here to take yo-”
“That’s a load o’ shit!” He pulled his head back and spat a glob of acid towards her. It flew by her face, but the bits of spray that hit her coat congealed and sizzled with a low hiss.
“Quit being so jumpy, dammit! I just want to talk! That’s all!”
“So you can convince me to turn myself in?” The croagunk spat at the ground. “I’m tellin’ ya right now, that ain’t gonna happen.”
Sam stepped forward, and the croagunk spat at her again. She leapt back and avoided most of it, but a small globule grazed her face, searing her skin on contact. She frantically wiped it away with her arm as she backed away into the darkness.
“Don’t come any closer now, y’hear!?”
“Damnit Andy! I ain’t here to hurt you!”
“Then why go through the trouble of finding me!?” The croagunk hobbled around to the other side of the fire. “Don’t tell me that ol’ bitch put you upta this...”
“That ‘bitch’ is your mother, Andy!” Sam tiptoed back into the light of the fire. “And she wanted me to find you before the others skinned you alive!”
“Like I’m gonna believe that. Y’ain’t getting me Sam, so stop trying!”
He wasn’t going to listen. That’s fine. He’d just have to see. Sam poked her mouth into one of the bags on her harness, grabbed a piece of rolled up paper, then chucked it towards the obstinate croagunk. He caught it handily, but refused to take his eyes off her.
“What’s this about?” He asked.
“Give it a read.”
“So you can pounce on me while I'm lookin’ away? What kinda fool you takin’ me for?”
“A mighty dumb one.”
He scoffed. “You wish.”
Sam sighed. This young boy was clearly not good at putting two and two together. “You didn’t hear me sneak up on your camp.”
“What’s that got to do with anythin’?”
“I could have killed you if I wanted to. You wouldn’t have even known what happened. That alone makes you a mighty big fool.”
The croagunk’s face turned sour. Every piece of his body looked as if he wanted to lash out at her.
“I'll spell it out for ya. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. Now read the damn paper, boy.”
Andy kept his stance rigid, even as Sam laid down in the dirt. He rolled open the paper and glanced at it quickly. He did a double take and his eyes went wide. Scanning the paper only brought a steady stream of disdain to his face. He spat on it, then tossed it into the fire.
“So... That’s how it’s gonna be then...” His cheeks deflated and he kicked the dirt at his feet as he walked back to his rock. He sat down near Sam and rested his head on his hand. His body echoed only a single sentiment: defeat. “So they’re gonna kill me? That’s it?”
“Only if you want them to. It says dead or alive.”
He scoffed. “Like I’d ever go back willingly.”
“It just says you’re wanted dead or alive. That don't mean they’re gonna kill you.”
He shook his head. “You just don’t get it, do ya?”
Sam kept her lips sealed. She had him where she wanted him, but she was treading on broken glass.
“You know what they do to kinslayers ‘round here?” Andy turned his eyes to Sam. “At best they’d see me hang from a tree. That’s if they’re feeling generous. For someone like me? Bet they’d hog tie me to some mudsdale and drag me through the dirt ‘till it scraped me down to bones.”
“It didn’t seem that way when I talked to them.”
“Yeah, well... You don’t know ‘em like I do.”
A silence hung in the air, much to the displeasure of them both. “What’ll you do?” Sam asked.
“Fuck if I know!” Andy threw his arms up. “Alls I know is I ain’t stayin’!”
“You’re not going to outrun them if that’s what you’re thinking of doing.”
“So what then? You saying I should just give up? That I should let ‘em bash my skull in!?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Sam leaned forward. “Say you walk away from all this. You get away and you’re a free man. What then? You gonna run your whole life?”
“And what if I do?”
Sam shrugged. “That’s all well and good. Not much of a living to be made from it though.”
“Well you seem to be doing just fiiiine there, Miss Sam.”
“Yeah. Just fine and nothing more. Trust me when I say that runnin’ ain’t no way to live.”
“Well it’s the only way I’ve got.” Andy laid down on his back and looked to the sky. “Shucks, if you could show me the ropes, we could travel together if you-”
Sam let out a loud laugh. “Ain’t happening, kid! You’re too hot, and not in the good way.”
The croagunk’s eyes turned solemn and sour. Another silence overtook the campsite. The adrenaline in her veins had long since passed, but in its absence a different feeling crept up to take its place. It was a sinking feeling draped in regret. She knew what she had to ask, even though she knew what the answer was.
“Why’d you do it?”
The weight of her question hung in the cool desert air. The croagunk sat himself up. “What you meant to ask is ‘why wouldn’t you do it?’. If you’d seen the shit he was doin’ you’da killed that sunnova bitch too!” He clenched his teeth, barely able to keep himself from shaking. “The way he beat mama. The way he beat my sister!”
Sam kept a cool demeanor despite the chills that ran down her spine.
“Death was too good for a shit head like him!” He struck the rock he sat on, cracking its surface. “Yeah! I killed him! And I’d do it again! You can tell that to my whore of a mama too, for all I care! Drunk, useless, and good for fuckin’ nothin’ the lot of ‘em!”
“I’m... sorry.” Sam muttered, “I can’t imagine the-”
“No you ain’t.” Andy cut Sam off, standing up and walking towards her. “You ever been beat for just lookin’ at someone the wrong way? For making the wrong noise? Shit, just for walkin’ on the wrong side o’ the goddamned road!?”
The croagunk lurched forward and grabbed on to Sam’s horn, catching her completely off guard. She shuffled forward as she was pulled to her feet. She tried yanking several times but her horn was firmly in his grip.
“You're here for the money right!?” He pressed her horn firmly against his throat. “Go ahead then!”
“Andy, think this through!” Small streaks of blood began to drip on to her horn.
“I’ve done plenty o’ thinking!” He gave her horn a firm tug. “I’d rather you get the money than any of those greedy good-for-nothin’s back in town!”
He was deceptively strong. Strong enough that Sam couldn’t break herself from his grasp no matter how hard she twisted or yanked. She didn’t want to kill him, but he was leaving her with little choice. There was only one way to gamble out of this.
She loosened her neck and ceased her struggling. The blade of her horn held the life of this young pokémon on its wire-thin edge. She held her breath, eyes locked with the desperate look of this young boy.
“Whaddaya waiting for? Do it!”
His grip loosened ever so slightly. The gamble was paying off.
“I ain’t killing you, Andy!” Sam yanked hard, throwing Andy off balance. This time one of his hands let up. Sam moved to give her horn another tug but stopped herself as his other arm fell to the wayside. The young boy’s chest heaved with ragged breaths. He closed his eyes and he tilted his head skywards. This was her chance.
The world around her seemed to grind to a halt. It wasn’t that long ago that she stood where he was standing. A lonely kid with nowhere in the world to go. It was cruel to think that he’d have to go through what she went through. There was only one way she could do right by him.
A sturdy exhale billowed from her nose. She brought her horn up, and steeled herself for what was to come.
One shot. Don’t fuck this up.
She lurched forward and sliced downwards. Her horn cut through his bandana and into his chest. He staggered backwards with a yelp of pain as she leapt to grab the bandana out of the air. Andy hit the ground screaming incoherently, his arms shaking as he looked upon the clean cut across his chest.
She hesitated to look. His screams of pain were the stuff of nightmares. When she finally mustered the stomach to look, she could have burst into laughter at the scene in front of her. The wound she inflicted on him was scarcely a wound at all. If anything, it was a papercut.
The weight of the world fell from her shoulders and she let out a sigh of relief. She stepped up next to Andy and stomped the ground next to his face. “Calm down! It’s just a cut!”
It took a few moments for the young boy to realize that he wasn’t actually dying. His composure slowly returned, and he looked up at Sam with eyes of disbelief.
“Don’t get me wrong boy, I’m here to collect,” Sam rubbed the bandana across the cut on his body, “But that don’t mean you gotta die.”
She brought her face down and rubbed her fur against his bleeding neck. He grunted in pain, but let Sam do what she would. When she pulled her head up, the coat around her face was painted lightly with his blood. She stowed his bandana and sat in the dirt.
“There. Now you’re dead.”
Andy blinked rapidly. “B-but why-”
“No justice to be had in killing a kid, especially not a good one like you.”
“Y-you really think I’m a good kid?”
“Anyone that looks out for their sister like that certainly ain’t bad. I’ll tell the townsfolk I had to kill you. I get my payment, and you don’t have to worry about them hunting you down.”
He turned his eyes to the ground, nodding slowly.
“And for the love of all that’s good, don’t go back.” Sam leaned in close to Andy’s face. “Because if you do, then we’re both good as dead.”
“What about my-”
“Your sister will be fine. You can count on it.”
He nodded once more. “Yes ma’am.”
“Good.” Sam stood up and turned to walk away. “Now put that fire out and get the hell out of here.”
“Miss Sam?” Andy asked as he pushed to his feet.
“What is it?”
He kicked several plumes of dirt onto the dwindling embers. “Where’d you reckon a dead kid like me should go?”
Sam mulled around in her head for a second. “Head North-West. There’s a town called Ebonsdale about a two day’s hike from here. They’re always looking for mine workers. It ain’t glamorous, but it sure as hell beats dying out here.”
With slumped shoulders, the croagunk turned around to face her. “Thank you, Sam.”
“Don’t mention it. Seriously.”
“Had no plan of it.”
“Get yourself a new name if you have to, especially if you’re going to make a living off killin’. And Learn to cover your tracks, too. Easiest hunt I’ve had all winter...”
“Ain’t got no intention of it, swear on my life. And Sam?”
She grunted. “What?”
“I’ll find a way to repay you. I promise.”
Sam offered no response and walked away. The deed was done and that’s all that mattered. She knew better than to expect anything from strangers, especially one as young as him. It didn’t help his case that he had a coinflip’s chance of dying before he saw civilization again. At least she could rest easy knowing that he didn’t die by her hands.
Her muscles relaxed and her senses slowly returned to normal. All the little scrapes and scratches on her body began to bubble to the surface, the burn on her face being the worst of it all. She paid her body’s protests no mind - she could rest when she got back to town.
She walked along the curves of the hills, always making sure to keep her eyes on that faint glow in the distance. Not that it was hard to. The small town stuck out like a sore paw. It was the inn mostly; four floors of drunken regrets that always had a way of poking out above the dunes. It acted like a lighthouse, and made for easy traveling in the area.
It was a valuable thing, and one she was thankful for. She always found traversing the desert difficult. It was impossible to tell where the trails end and the mystery dungeons begin. It blended together too seamlessly. One misstep and she could wind up walking her feet down to the bones on land that loops on itself forever, and that’s only if the mandibuzz didn’t take a liking to her first.
She tried not to think about it. She had enough to worry about without the dread of imminent death looming over her head.
One by one the hills parted steadily behind her until she was on the main road into town. Even a fair distance away she could see the various congregations of pokémon standing in the street and staring toward her with eager eyes. She hated it. Thankfully, seeing her walk into town without Andy in tow was enough of an answer for most of them. The townsfolk walked back inside their homes with their heads hung low, and the few that stuck around had the pleasure of seeing the blood stains on her horn and face.
A pair of youths began to heckle her, tossing pebbles and hurling insults as she approached the bar. She’d have half a mind to make an example of them, but she didn’t have the energy to. Not tonight, at least. Every ounce of her attention was focused on the looming conversation bouncing around in her head.
Giving bad news to grieving parents was always hard and it never got easier. Everyone that told her otherwise was a liar. The first time you tell a mother their child is dead hurts just as much as the hundredth time. She just grew numb to it. At some point she learned how to not cry, but she couldn’t remember when. Not that it mattered much.
She passed by a small gathering of pokémon standing near the bar’s swinging doors. The pokémon on either side of her gave her curious glances as they whispered amongst themselves. Their words fluttered around her ears, but she didn't care to catch them.
Despite the solemn atmosphere outside, the inside was rowdy as ever. Regulars sat at the bar and drank their sorrows away. A band of marrowak plucked away at various string instruments made of bone while the lead man blew away on his harmonica. In the corner, a sandslash danced skillfully on a pole as onlookers cheered and tossed coins onto the stage. The few tables open for gambling had not a single seat open. A den of sin if ever there was one.
She waltzed up to the bar and grabbed the attention of the rhydon behind the counter. Noticing the blood on her face, he simply nodded and motioned for her to head out back. She wasted no time, eager to put this evening behind her. The groups of pokémon blocking her path parted ways as she trotted through a set of curtains and into the long hallway at the back of the building.
The sounds of the bar became muffled as she approached the third door on the left. She stopped and stared at the doorknob, running the coming conversation through her mind. Just thinking about it gave her a headache, and it was bad enough that she considered turning around and forgetting about it.
She could do that. Turn around, let the sheriff deal with it and wipe her paws clean of this messy affair. Wouldn’t change a thing. But there it was again: that small ember of guilt that always held a knife to her throat. As much as she wanted to turn around, she knew that it wasn’t the right thing to do.
That, and there was money to be had. With a heavy heart, she brought her claw up and knocked on the door, waiting to be welcomed in.
Quick and easy this time, Sam.
Several moments passed without an answer. She hit the door with a few more heavy raps, bowing her head in anxious anticipation for a voice that never came. Knowing she would likely regret it, Sam pressed her head up against the door and listened closely. Sure enough, the faint noises of shifting covers and straining springs reached through the door and tickled her ears.
It was in that moment that something inside her snapped. It wasn’t even the act that disgusted her. She’d been there before. More times than she’d like to admit. But this? Selling her body only a few hours after her husband was killed? The complete disregard for the livelihood of her own fucking child? It made her sick. Any desire to be pleasant evaporated in a flash of anger right then and there. This was something more than money now.
She curled her shaking paw into a half-fist and struck the door several times, the wood cracking beneath her strength. Sounds of muffled talking echoed from behind the door. It rose into a brief argument before fading away into shuffling feet. The doorknob jostled, opening only a crack to the sight of an agitated lombre.
“The fuck do you want!?”
“I’m here for Miss Daisy.”
“She’s busy.” The lombre moved to shut the door but Sam blocked it with her body. She braced her legs and bashed her shoulder against the door, shoving the lombre backwards.
“Miss Daisy! It's Sam! I’m back!” She shouted into the room.
“Let her in!” A woman’s voice called out from inside the room.
“Not until we’re done!” The lombre barked, scrambling back to the doorway. “I’m gettin’ the full time I paid for, dammit!”
“Get out of my room!” The woman shouted. As the lombre turned around to argue, Sam shoved herself through the doorway and barged into the room. The lombre fell backwards onto the floor.
“You heard the lady!” Sam lurched forward and sunk her teeth into his leg, dragging him kicking and flailing into the hallway.
She released her grip and the lombre scrambled to his feet. Before she had a chance to react, she felt the firm strike of his fist against her jaw. She staggered back and took another blow to the temple. Her legs tangled and she crashed against the wall.
Another fist came flying but she pulled her head back in time to dodge it. The lombre’s fist hit the wall and Sam saw her opening. She pulled her head back, then thrust her legs forward, striking their foreheads together with a sickening crack that echoed down the hallway.
The lombre stumbled and spun as he tried to keep his balance, eventually falling backwards onto the floor. Every attempt to flounder to his feet just left him falling to the floor again. Eventually he stopped trying, staring at Sam with his impotent glare.
“Fuckin’... Bitch...”
“Damn fuckin’ right I am.” She walked up next to him, raised her hind leg, and used all her strength to kick him square in the stomach. The lombre yelped and curled into a ball, gasping for air as the wind was knocked out of him.
The spots where she was hit ached, but paled by comparison to the catharsis of letting off some steam. Unfortunately for Daisy, there was still plenty more to let off. Sam walked through the door and trotted up to the bed. Daisy, a roserade, sat on its edge resting her head on one of her bouquets.
“Golly Snowball, I’m so sor-”
“Your son’s dead, Daisy.”
She blinked rapidly, barely able to process her words. “W-what?”
“You got shit in your ears? Your son’s dead.” She pulled out the bloodied bandana and waved it in her face. “See?”
The roserade was stunned. Her jaw dropped and lips quivered. Sam expected sadness, but was caught off guard when she stood up and started stomping towards her. “You fuckin’ jackals...” Teeth clenched tight, she lurched forward and shoved Sam. “You stupid fuckin’ jackals!” She hit Sam in the face repeatedly with her bouquets. “I shoulda known better than to trust an ill-tempered inbred fucker like you! Alls you're good for is killin’! That’s all you fuckers do is kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
That was it. There was only one language these people understood. Sam brought her front leg up and struck her in the chest. The roserade staggered backwards and slammed into the dresser. Sam grabbed her head and shoved a claw into her mouth, pulling its sharp edge tight against the corner of her mouth.
“You got a lotta fuckin’ nerve calling me something like that.” She whispered from behind clenched fangs. “You’re lucky I don’t split your fuckin’ cheeks open.”
The roserade closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths. On the third breath, she closed her lips tight, and spat in Sam’s face. Without hesitation Sam raked her face, knocking her to the ground.
“Wrong answer, Daisy!” Sam shouted at the top of her lungs. She brought her arm up stomped on her head, pressing her face firmly into the carpet as she dug her claws into her scalp. She leaned down and growled in her ear, “I’d be careful with your next words, little lady.”
Daisy huffed, alcohol pungent on her breath. “Let me go... Please...”
“I gave you a chance to play nice, Daisy.” Sam stood tall and looked around the room. “Where’s the bounty?”
“I ain’t... givin’ you shit!”
Sam sunk her claws harder into her head. “That’s two wrong answers, Daisy! One more and you’ll be sleeping with that sack-o’-shit husband of yours!”
A series of pained grunts escaped her lips before she spoke up again. “Make-up stand... second drawer...”
“Was that so hard?” Sam dragged her face through the carpet as she kicked her away. She walked to the make-up stand, making eye contact with her reflection in the small mirror. Something caught her eye for a split second. It was her face. She seemed... tired? Dejected? She blinked, and it was gone. It left as fast as it came, lingering in her retina like a flash of lightning. She blinked rapidly, and the image cleared from her vision.
She shook her head. Second drawer... She put her claw in the handle and pulled it open. Sure enough, there it was - the moment that made all this trouble worthwhile. Sitting in the drawer was a sizable sack filled to the brim with bona-fide, freshly minted empire ausis. She picked it up and placed it in a pouch on her harness.
“I’ll be takin’ this.” She said.
“All of it!?” Daisy shouted, crawling on the ground towards her. “I said you’d only get all of it if you brought my son back!”
“Consider it a service fee.”
“A service fee for what!?”
“For wasting my fucking time by talking to me like that.”
Daisy’s head went limp against the carpet. “That’s all my money, Snowball...” She started to weep. “That's all I got...”
“I don’t care.”
“Show some sympathy...” She looked up at Sam with pleading eyes. “Please.”
She didn’t even apologize. All she cared about was the money. It was pathetic. Sam leaned down to her face, baring her teeth. “People like you don’t deserve sympathy.” She stood up and made for the door. “You're lucky that boy of yours didn’t kill you, too! That’s what I woulda done!”
Once Sam was in the hallway, she turned around and slammed the door shut as one final message to that ungrateful weed. The sounds of pained groans tickled her ears. She turned and saw the lombre rolling around on his back, barely conscious in a puddle of his own vomit. She might have felt proud if it wasn’t the sorriest sight she’d seen all week.
“All yours, lover boy.”
The lombre didn’t respond. Just as well that Daisy’s muffled wails of agony began to echo out from the room, prompting Sam’s departure.
The main floor was a place unchanged by the events beyond those silken curtains. The gamblers gambled, the drunkards drank, and the lustful men chucked coins at women who would much rather see them dead. She’d’ve been tempted to join the festivities if there was anything worth celebrating. Instead, she paid it no mind, passing it by as indifferently as it continued. She walked outside and let the cool desert air caress her face with a gust of sand-kissed wind.
Right across the street was that sad old jailhouse. Despite her aching body, it was a good night. Out and back long before the sun showed, and a decent amount of money for a few hours of work. Her worst wounds were a couple of stinging burns and a bruise or two on her face. It was about as good as it could get.
The desert howled one last gust as she turned the doorknob and walked inside. The sheriff, a portly excadrill, snapped up from his nap and shot out of his chair.
“Back so soon!?”
Sam nodded. “Afraid so.”
The excadrill looked at the blood on her face before solemnly lowering his head. “So that’s it then?”
“Tried to reason with him, honest to-”
The sheriff put one of his claws up. “I know you did, Snowball. Spare me the details.”
She reached into one of her pouches and revealed the blood soaked bandana. It was stiff and dry, holding its form as she placed it in the sheriff’s hands.
“What a mess...” He said.
“Wish things could have gone differently, sheriff. I really do.”
“It’s my fault really, that good-for-nothin’ dad o’ his.”
“Don’t go blamin’ yourself now.”
“No, it really is my fault.” He took in a deep, steady breath. “Kept releasin’ him. Thought maybe he’d change his ways. Each time I dragged him back here kickin’ and screamin’ I thought... ‘Y’know, maybe this time he’ll put the bottle down and turn a new leaf’...” The two of them shared a protracted look of exhaustion. “Knew I shoulda put him down myself...”
“There’s no way you could have known the boy would kill him.”
“I appreciate the kind words Snowball, but that don’t change the fact we got two dead townsfolk now. Can’t even imagine the pain that mama of his must be goin’ through...”
The sound of Daisy’s wailing echoed in her ears. “Yeah...”
“What to do...” He leaned back to his seat. “Oooooh what to do, what to do, what to do...”
Sam felt for him. It was tempting, as it always was, to tell him that the boy was still alive. She knew better though. She’d been burnt by doing that before. It was better this way.
That, and she had two sides to play in this little game.
“I don’t mean to be coarse... but I’ll take the money if you got it. Daisy wasn’t good for any of it like you said.”
“Straight to the point as always, Snowball.” The sheriff pulled open one of his drawers. From this drawer he grabbed a sizable bag filled with coins, dropping it on to the table with a satisfying thud. “Money’s all yours plus a little extra. For your troubles.”
Sam grabbed the bag by the tip of her claw. “You sure the governor won’t mind? Wouldn’t want to see your hide on the tanner.”
“Pfft. Govna’ don’t pay no mind to no backstreet shit hole like this. Wouldn’t be needin’ ya if he did.”
Sam shrugged, stowing the bag away. “Well, I won’t ever say no to a little spending money. Thank you kindly, in any case.”
“No, thank you Sam. Sorry you got caught up in all this.”
“Please, sheriff. Trouble always finds its way to me. If not the boy, it woulda been something else.”
“Spoken like a true, hot-blooded jackal.”
There it was again. She locked eyes with him and glared until he realized what he had said.
“Sorry...” He meekly nodded in remorse. “Slip o’ the tongue.” He pushed a bottle of whiskey towards her. “Need a drink?”
“Like you wouldn’t know.” She grabbed the bottle by her teeth and with a tilt of her head the burning liquid churned into her mouth. It was rancid beyond words and burned all the length of her throat. She slammed it on to the table as quickly as she grabbed it, its aftertaste choking her into a coughing fit.
The sheriff laughed, “Oh come now, it ain’t that bad!”. He grabbed the bottle and took a swig of it himself.
Sam shuddered as goosebumps ran along her skin. “Yeah... for y’all down here maybe...”
“Y’know...” The sheriff looked her over, chuckling to himself. “I’d say it puts hair on your chest, but you got more than I do.”
Sam found it hard to fight her own laughter, cough-laughing as she walked to the door at the back of the building, “Good one sheriff...”
She opened the backdoor and approached the barrel filled with rainwater. It was warm on her nose as she took several large gulps, washing away the lingering taste of the whisky. Once she had her fill, she took a deep breath and dunked her head into the water. There she remained for as long as was comfortable, letting the dried blood and caked acid on her face soak up as much as it could.
The water in her fur sprayed across the sand as she whipped her head back up. It dripped down her face and into the fur around her neck. It was pleasant. She leveled her head to the barrel to drink some more water, the last echoes of bootleg whiskey fading away.
She opened her eyes as she drank, looking at the grim reflection of her own face. It superimposed itself with the reflection she saw in Daisy’s room. She almost couldn’t recognize herself. The disappointed look in her eyes melded with the cracks and lines on the skin of her youthful face. They numbered more than she cared to count. Of course, the dry desert air never did her any favors, either. Her looks were hardly a priority, but something about seeing her slightly aging face didn’t sit well in her mind.
I need to get the hell out of here...
She briefly closed her eyes and the trick of the mind was gone. All that remained was her normal reflection, a slight bump on her jaw from where she was hit. A few shake-twists of her body got most of the water out of her fur and what little that remained was dried with a rag that dangled on a nearby hook. When she pulled it away, small clumps of her undercoat fluttered off her face on the gusts of a light breeze.
Right on time, I guess.
She hung the rag and clawed her hair as straight as she could get it. Small clumps of fur came loose as she made herself look presentable. When she walked back inside, the sheriff was still sitting at his desk staring blankly at the floor as he kicked his feet.
Sam coughed to grab his attention. “I look good?”
The sheriff snapped to her and looked her over. “Well shit, you always look good.”
“You know what I meant.” She waltzed over to the last of the five jail cells. Various oddities scattered the floor and her hat hung from a nail in the wall. All in all, about as home as a place like this could be.
“You hittin’ the sack?” The sheriff asked.
“No. Grabbing the next cart north.”
“So soon?” He asked.
“I’ve had my fill of this hellhole for one season.”
He sucked in a deep breath, “Y’know Snowball, I almost hate to ask again-”
“The answer is still no, sheriff.”
He put his metal claws in the air. “Can’t blame a man for askin’. This town could really use someone like you and I certainly ain’t gettin’ any younger.”
“What this town could really use is a brushfire...” She muttered.
The excadrill laughed heartily, “You’ll get no disagreement from me!”
Sam slung her rawhide hat around her neck and began collecting her things. “You’ll find a deputy one of these days, sheriff. Hopefully one that likes the heat a bit more than myself.”
“Here’s hoping.” He reached to the floor and raised a full glass of whiskey in the air. He pulled the cork from its top with a satisfying pop. In one fluid motion he leaned back in his chair and took several hefty chugs before placing it down on the table, shuddering.
“Don’t go drinkin’ all of that now.”
“Oh it ain’t all for me, Snowball. Plenty here for the two of us if you’d fancy sticking around a bit longer.” He pushed the bottle towards her, stopping her in her tracks. She stared at its deep orange contents that tempted her like the subtle movements of a dancer.
“No thanks.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff shuffled in his seat, pondering for a second. “Well shit Snowball, you know the caravans don’t run this late. You could stay here another night if you wanted. Ain’t no thing about it.”
There it was. Sam kept her voice firm. “I’d rather just leave. I’m eager to see something lively and green for once.”
“It’s been a long day Snowball, and it’s gonna be green whether you rush there or not. May as well stay and have a drink.” The sheriff raised the half-empty whisky bottle high.
Why do they never take the hint... “I just got the taste out of my mouth.” Sam forced a chuckle, putting away the last of her things. “I appreciate the gesture, but I really have to get going.”
“Hmph. More for me then.” He said, taking another long drink.
Sam walked to the door. “Thanks for letting me stay in one of the cells by the way, sheriff. You saved me a good bit of money.”
“Happy to help.” The sheriff gave her a wave goodbye. “Don’t be a stranger now, y’hear?”
“Oh I’m sure I’ll be back sometime, sheriff.”
She wouldn’t. She knew better than to come back to places where people of power tried to put the moves on her. It only invited trouble, and she got plenty of that as it is.
The wind whisked lightly, carrying plumes of dirt into the air. The respectable citizens of the town had long since turned in for the evening, and those that didn’t were throwing their money away at the bar. The town was barren in every direction, save for a handful of psychic pokémon congregating loosely around the statues in front of the church. In the center was an azure blue meowstic with his ears unfurled slightly, glowing with a warm purple hum. The sight was ridiculous, but Sam paid them no mind. Those types of congregations usually never hurt anyone.
Usually.
She never understood the appeal. Maybe it was her upbringing. Maybe it was just her. The statue these pokémon were communing with was a crudely chiseled likeness of a golem. She could recall a town not far away where they had statues of a swampert made from wetted clay. The differences of interpretations even between neighboring towns were so numerous that she found it hard to take any of them seriously. Only The Savior himself knew what was real or fake in those books any more.
The odd sight came and went without incident, and soon she came upon the warehouse where the sounds of clunking boxes met her ears. She could make out three carts and the three mudsdale that were moving their wares about.
“Hey!” Sam called out to grab their attention. “Y’all taking passengers?”
“Depends on how many!” One shouted back.
“Just one!”
“Should be fine!”
Sam walked up next to the one of the musdale. “You’re heading up North, right?”
“More East. Next stop is Andover.”
Sam visualized a map in her mind. She’d prefer to just head straight North, but Andover was a sizable hub town. She could hop on a northward caravan from there.
“When are y’all leaving?”
The mudsdale paused. “Shit, probably sunrise. Got a lot of goods to move.”
“Would it bother you if I caught some sleep in your cart?”
“Fine by me. As long as you’re paying.”
“How much?”
“200.”
Sam scoffed. “200!? Your cart better fuck me silly if you’re charging a price like that!”
“200. Take it or leave it.”
Sam sighed, mulling it over in her head. It was a hefty price. Probably one of the most expensive trips she’d ever pay for. “150. I’m a capable fighter.”
The mudsdale gave it a thought for a moment before motioning to a half-empty carriage. “You can stay in this cart. We’ll work around you.”
“Fine by me.”
Sam leapt into the carriage and hobbled over sackfuls of what she assumed was various foodstuffs. She found an empty spot in the front and laid down. It was far from ideal and farther from comfortable, but it sure as hell beat staying anywhere near that jailhouse.
She rolled on to her side and gazed up at the night sky. Something about the desert night sky had a way of pulling her in - like some sort of witch casting a voodoo spell on her. Whatever the incantation, she didn’t mind. It was beautiful. Helped remind her that the world was small and her troubles were smaller.
The whiskey she drank earlier began to put its work in. Stars twisted and spun in all manner of captivating ways as she steadily grew lightheaded. As much as she wanted to stare on forever, the blanket of a slight buzz beckoned her to sleep. She pulled her hat over her face, bidding a bittersweet farewell to those silvery moonbeams.
It didn’t take long for her mind to meander into distant memories; times long since passed and fading. They flowed through the annals of her mind one by one, each stronger than the last. She floated along that river of carelessness as it carried her away into a land of mediocre slumber.