#strwxberrywrites

[strwxberrymilk]

“Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.”

Pairing: Werewolf John Marston x Reader

Word count: 3,362

Happy Valentine’s day! Here’s my fic for the always lovely @littlestarofthewest from the @rdrsecretcupid2020 event!! You said you liked tropes and mythical creatures, so I hope you like confessions of love and werewolves!! 

~

Summer winds danced through the trees, their sunlit branches trembling, gently moved by the warm breeze. Crickets began chirping along with songbirds as the sun sank over the heartlands, calling sweetly to the coming dusk. Creamy wisps of clouds delicately kissed the horizon, beckoning forth a warm glow over the lands, coating cliffs, and wildflowers in its radiance. The Dakota River was turned into liquid gold and the meadows seemed less like grass and more like twenty-four-carat threads waltzing in place. The campsite basked in the golden hour, hushed if only for a moment, by the setting sun. She sat there on an old fallen log, journaling and taking in the half-light of day. The breeze swirled through her hair and onto sun-kissed skin as she tucked wild strands behind her ear. Her pencil scraped purposefully at the paper, marking down her fleeting thoughts as the day came to an end.

Tonight would be the first full moon since she had been bitten those weeks ago. The freezing dampness of Colter was testing in itself, but with the hapless attack from an O’driscoll scout, the journey was frightful. She had been on guard duty when the beast came from the trees, roaring madly, sending spittle flying through the cold air, and clamping its razor-filled maw around her throat. Luckily, the men came just in time, hurdled into action from the sound of the beast- shooting the creature dead and getting the girl inside. There was no mistaking her fate then. In fact, most of the people who ran with the Van Der Linde gang were all too familiar with the curse that would soon befall the young woman, having to deal with it themselves as well. She healed quickly from the wounds, biding her time until the moon would finally rise, uncovered and full. And it seemed that a night full of firsts would arise with the setting sun.

He watched her sitting on that log, basking in her radiance, starry-eyed and captivated by the way that the light caressed her skin and how the dust in the air danced a halo around her. How he longed to be the sunlight on her skin, craving to be sweetly buried in those locks, holding her to him, with full dominion over her body and affections. She was to be his, and his alone- it was what he ached for, what he needed in order to feel whole again. Since the day they met, John Marston had an eye for the lady. Much to Dutch and Hosea’s chagrin, John had immediately imprinted upon her the second their gazes met. This bond that had suddenly drawn the two together held a more significant meaning than john had known at first, only recognizing that she was his destiny after a talk with Hosea. The girl was clueless, however. Merely thinking that the young man just enjoyed her company some. Maybe he thought of her as a sister that needed his protection or a damsel in need of saving- because in her mind, surely this tall, dark, and villainously handsome man couldn’t feel the same way about her. So, she pushed down these hot and blooming fantasies of romance every time she spent a moment with John.

The girl shut her journal with an inward sigh, slouching, resting her elbows on her knees. Her eyes fluttered shut with a long exhale, worried about the night to come. John was leaned against a nearby tree, watching, spell-bound by her entirety, and just how gorgeous she looked. He pushed off of the rough bark when he saw the clear anxiety in her posture, spurs clinking as he headed towards her. “Evening miss (___),” he called, stopping to stand next to the log. The girl snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes weary and thoughtful. “Oh, hello John,” She quickly looked back at the landscape, feeling her cheeks heat up under his gaze. “What’re you up to?” The question hardly squeaked out from her lips as she nervously played with her pencil, refusing to meet his eyes. John huffed, bringing his hands to rest on his gun belt, turning to watch as the sun made its final descent behind the distant mountains. “Well I noticed you looked worried, so I came to see how you were,” He glanced at her in his periphery, “-Since I know it’s gonna be your first night is all.” He added quickly, mumbling slightly, shaking his head. The girl sighed, swallowing her feelings once more and turned to face him completely in her seat, “Hah, well you’re right. I am really worried John. I-I mean I’ve never gone through anything like this before, especially not alone.” Nervously laughing she continued, “I really am frightened.” John moved to sit beside her, resting with one elbow on his thigh. She could now see his face fully, handsomely drenched in the afterglow of twilight, black wisps falling into his eyes. His lips were pulled into a tight line and his brows furrowed, “(___), I’m gonna be honest with you. It’s not easy. In reality, it will be painful, and damn difficult. It was, even for me.” He placed a heavy hand onto her smaller ones, squeezing slightly in re-assurance, “But you’re a strong, fine woman. You’ll manage just fine I’m sure.” John grinned a toothy smile and chuckled as the young woman laughed as well. “Thank you, John, I- uh- That means a lot to me.” She glanced down before finding herself lost in those coal brown eyes, staring longingly at his scars, tracing down his face and to his lips. A soft sort of tension ebbed between them and through the beginning night, making their silence quite awkward. Noticing this, John cleared his throat and spoke up, “Say, why don’t we go grab some dinner and get you settled?” He stood up and held out a hand to the girl. Smiling sweetly, she took his hand and walked with him back to the center of camp.

They sat together at a table and ate their stew, chatting about things other than their lycanthropy. After dinner, John and the girl rested around the campfire with the rest of the gang, all more quiet than usual out of respect for the girl’s first moon, and by Dutch’s orders. It was easy for them to empathize with her since all first turns are involuntary and happen no matter what, on the first full moon after one is bitten. After a wolf’s first moon, they are free to choose when to turn or not, voluntarily shifting at will, not tied to their beastly form when those bright nights come. After a while, the girl grew more exhausted, feeling hot under the rays of the rising moon, and asked john to bid her goodnight. He walked her back to her own tent, re-assuring her that everything will be alright and that she should try to sleep and get some rest while she can. With a kiss to her delicate hand, He wished her a peaceful first moon. The girl heaved and entered her tent. As the flaps closed behind her, the girl began to undress. She was sweating already, and her clothing clung to her, nearly drenched. Being left in just her drawers and chemise the girl lied down onto her bedroll, panting, exhausted and growing more agitated as time went on.

She slept for a short while as the camp around her calmed to a hush and only embers sizzled where the roaring fire once sat. The moon rose higher into the night sky, stars twinkling sporadically in the deep black depths. Crickets stopped their singing and no rabbit even dared to exit its burrow; the earth knew that it was time. With a gasp, she woke, suddenly and painfully- her skin burned with heat and her chest ached. Pure instinct ran through her veins, as she lifted herself from the ground, stumbling out of the tent and into camp. Nobody was out now, all stowed away, sleeping soundly in their bedrolls. She wheezed as her feet carried her out into the forest. Her heart began to race, every time she waltzed into a patch of moonlight, promptly carrying her faster downhill. Her skin felt like it was on fire, searing deep into her bones, making her cry out in pain. Her yells were the only sound that echoed in the trees, becoming more erratic and desperate as she stumbled towards a clearing in her moon-drunk stupor. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears as she cleared the tree line. Stepping into the moonlight sent waves of chills down her skin, cooling the heat that ached her. The pure ecstasy that direct moonlight poured into her was indescribable. She whimpered as pain overtook her short-lived pleasure, breath hitching as she hunched over. Her entire body was trembling severely, and tears welled in her eyes. Bones began to shift and crack horridly as she writhed in pain, screaming out into the night air. Her once soft and manicured hands grew into large wolf-like paws with long unmanaged claws hanging atop. Her spine elongated and ruptured, stretching and pulling. Her chest moved in the opposite direction, ripping through her underclothes, leaving her bare. The girl’s legs grew longer and bent wildly, breaking and contorting into those akin to a canine. Her bare feet morphed into large paws, making her stumble, catching herself on the ground with her arms. The girl’s once petite frame was now hulking and covered in thick fur. The worst pain was in her face and jaw, cracking and relocating, making her shriek in pain. The moon was at its peak now, casting its midnight rays below into the valley and onto the girl. Her screams turned to beastly roars as the shifting came to its end. Whimpering and writhing in the dewy grass she looked up to the moon. This final action, a gesture of submission and connection sent a rush of primal strength into her. She rose now, standing tall and greeted the moon with a hauntingly beautiful howl. She sang away the pain, tilting her head back and flattening her ears. This is how she was supposed to feel. To be liberated by the moon’s benevolent grasp.

John bolted awake in his tent. He heard her song so clearly, even in his sleep, calling to him. This siren song beckoned him fourth, setting his heart on fire. He threw himself out of his tent, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He knew that the bond that nature had secured between them would call to him eventually, but just how quickly and wholly instinct took over was jarring to him. He scented the air, nostrils flaring, and pupils blown, searching for the girl- his girl. His lanky form bounded through the forest floor, stomping over thickets through the underbrush. Most times he was confident in his will to keep from turning when exposed to the moon’s rays, but when his ears pricked at the again enchanting howl that sang from the she-wolf, her scent drifting back up the hill, he felt his continence slip from his grasp. Stumbling forward he growled as his own beastly form began to manifest, shifting from man to wolf. His once slim torso now broad and coated in inky black fur, heaved deeply as he tried to regain some sort of restraint. With his senses, now heightened, he could feel the girl close by. His massive paws padded quietly as he stalked through the underbrush, head swiveling and ears twitching, looking for an indicator of her location. nose to the wind, his stride came to a stop as the tree line thinned into a clearing. The moment his eyes found her, gaining her bearings in the meadow, he felt more human as a wolf than he ever had before. She stood gazing upwards, her fur sparkling in the moon’s rays, tail waving slightly under her long, muscular legs. A fire sparked in his loins, churning butterflies in his gut- feet carrying him out into the open air to meet her.

She hadn’t noticed him approach, focus fixated on the night sky. His steps broke the silence, causing her to snap her attention to him. The girl wasn’t used to her new senses, nose scrunching as she took in his scent, it was unfamiliar yet known, something she remembered but now dripping in musk. Fear swam down her spine, hackles raised, and ears pinned snarling a warning to the dark-furred male. She backed up slightly, tucking her tail, crouching defensively. The male was shocked, not knowing why she didn’t recognize him. He let out a small sound between a whimper and a bark, ears lying flat submissively, stepping forward. Shadows uncovered the wolf as he slinked forward into the moonlight, head hanging low and eyes locked onto hers. The deep scars that cut into his fur were now visible in the misty silver rays and his eyes, stark red against midnight brows, pierced like a beacon through the air and into her. Her ears flicked forward in question, head bobbing backward. This night could not get any weirder, she thought, she had expected her first moon to be strange, yes, but she knew that face; It couldn’t be anyone but john. She let him approach, stepping closer herself, calling out a quiet whimper in question to the male, ‘john?’ The larger canine broke from his submissive stance, bouncing slightly and happy to be recognized by the she-wolf. His tail began to wag rapidly, and he grinned, ‘I’m here (___), it’s me.’ Along with her demeanor, the tension broke and she sprang forward, closing the gap between them and tackled John to the ground. She laughed in relief, ‘Man am I glad to see you! I don’t know what I would’ve done if some other folks had found me so quick!’ She pressed the bridge of her muzzle to his chin and breathed in a deep whiff of his scent, which became clear to her in recognition of the man whom she pined over. John grunted, out of wind from the sudden hug, and chuckled, ‘well you did look like you were ‘bout to kill me right there. If I ain’t know you, I would’ve tucked tail and ran, you sure showed like a seasoned wolf already.’ The girl rolled off of him, reaching her feet and cocked her head to one side. ‘What��d you mean ‘if I ain’t know you?’ How did you know it was me, not like anyone’s seen me turned before?’ Her brows were furrowed, and she gazed around as if to look for anyone else there with them. ‘well,’ John said, standing up, ‘I could smell you, but really it was that beautiful call of yours. I knew that nobody else could sing so sweetly to me-‘ He stopped suddenly. The words falling out of his mouth far too quickly. John wasn’t quite how to tell her how strongly he felt, but damn he knew it needed to be more romantic than word vomit. John huffed, ‘Anyways, let’s get you back home. Or at least closer to camp. folks around here ain’t used to seeing things like us.’ He gestured back to the tree line and placed a paw at the small of her back. She sent him a smile, her eyes, soft, gleaming gold in the moon’s light. They started into the forest, side by side. ‘And while we walk, I could explain some more things that you’ll start to experience? Having had your first moon and all.’ He questioned, looking down at the girl. Humming, she answered, ‘That sounds wonderful, thank you, John.’

Through the night, the two young werewolves padded through trees and over thickets, conversing quietly. He described his first moon to the girl, and how he learned all he knew from Dutch. How scents work, how to track prey as a wolf, how ranking works. The moon was sinking low now, barely kissing the tops of distant trees. The wind settled into a slow breeze as the caterwauling crickets hushed to a whisper, and twinkling stars began to fade. It was when they got onto the topic of packs and ranking that imprinting came up.  The two stopped just outside of camp. John’s throat was dry as he described the ‘at first sight’ bond that takes place between destined mates. He stated that, ‘It feels like when you’re apart from them, that you’re suffocating.’ The girl was quiet for a long moment before asking, ‘And that you would give the world just to hold them? for even one second?’ She refused to look at him, worried that if she did, he’d know exactly what her question was. John took in a deep breath before exhaling, ‘I never knew how I should tell you this. But I think right now is as good as tomorrow and as any day. (___) from the second I met you all that time ago, I knew that you were meant to belong to me.’ He took the girl’s smaller paws into his and gave them a gentle squeeze, eyes lingering on her face, taking in her ethereal beauty. Even as a wolf, he thought she was the image of perfection itself. The girl was shocked, mouth hanging open. Her head shook as she looked up to meet his eyes. ‘are you toying with me, John Marston?’ Her eyes welled up with tears. In her mind, there was no way that this man, who treated her with such chivalry, who was so handsome, fiercely loyal, and genuine could feel the same way about her that she does of him. John’s eyes looked worried as he pulled her into his chest, claws raking through her soft fur. ‘I always questioned it or dismissed it, but tonight- when I heard you howl- it just solidified it to me.’ He breathed deeply, looking down and stroking her cheek, ‘We are meant to be with one another, (___). We’re supposed the be mates.’ The girl lifted her head from his broad, inky chest and grasped onto the hand that remained on her furred cheek. he stammered mouth opening and closing before finally admitting, ‘I love you.’ She choked out a sigh of relief before returning his confession, ‘I love you too.’ He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, holding each other tightly in the dying moonlight. His next words were those of ancient origin, that was said between every pair of courting wolves, symbolic and true in meaning. ‘I vow to protect you, love you, provide for you in any way that I can.’ He whispered to her, earnestly. The girl smiled before answering, ‘I vow to serve you, comfort you, and provide for you in any way that I can.’

The pair pulled away from one another as the beginning signs of day spread along the land. ‘we should get you inside before you turn back. You’re gonna be exhausted- just like I was after my first moon.’ John called, taking her hand in his own. In the east, the sun peeked from behind the horizon and songbirds sang to the coming light. The sky was yellow and blue, beckoning day to come once more. The new couple, giddy and spry, traipsed paw in paw into the awakening camp. The only other souls awake at that early hour were Dutch and Arthur, who sat just outside Dutch’s tent, drinking their coffee and talking quietly. They snapped their heads in the direction of the two wolves that came into view. Dutch smiled touched and knowing while Arthur grinned and nodded before taking another sip of his hot coffee. The girl yawned as she carefully entered her tent, John following close behind. She lied down atop the furs and blankets on the floor, tail wrapping around her bent legs, and beckoned John to do the same. ‘Stay with me?’ she asked, humming quietly. He curled up beside her, holding the girl close to his chest, laying his head down just above hers. ‘Always (___), always.’

~

I apologize that i couldn’t get this posted sooner! This weekend was chaotic and i couldn’t get to my laptop. I really hope you enjoyed it, I’m a fairly inexperienced writer and this was my first insert fic. I know it doesn’t live up to your god-like writing skills but I gave it a shot anyways! 

Have an amazing week sugarplum!! <3

[desertfawn]

I don’t really know what this is just a little bit of warm up writing that I did the other day! It’s probably a lil messy but it was quick! Enjoy!

A warm summer breeze hummed over her bare freckled shoulders, twirled through sandy blonde ringlets and danced down her spine. I found her, grounded, tucked into the soft buffalo grass, lying on her front, arms crossed under her chin. Her eyes were closed and the rays of sunshine that found her pale delicate face dizzied me. My mouth felt dry as I gazed upon her resting form- I found that I didn’t have much to think of anymore. I only ever think about what to do next but I couldn’t think of anything but now. Seeing her like that melted away any previous thoughts I had running through my mind. She wore a peaceful expression, rosy lips resting into a smile, her eyelashes casting a small shadow upon her soft dappled cheeks. Stands of hair swayed with the breeze in front of her face. The early June sun seemed to make her glow, splaying itself over her body. Hair cascaded down her back drawing my eye through gleaming flaxen curls and onto the baby blue chiffon that draped around her midriff. The gossamer fabric rose and fell with every sleepy breath that she took, and swam over her hips and legs fluently. It did so with such poise yet so little effort. Small gusts of wind would gently take the fabric and sway it above the grass. My palms began to sweat. At first I didn’t know how I felt about seeing her like this- concupiscent and innocent alike, napping in the near evening sun. It felt almost as if it was something I wasn’t meant to see, sacred-chaste even.

[strwxberrymilk]

Of Fawn and flame - Ch1, burnt remains

Word count: 4,150

warnings: death, bodily fluids, etc.

Author’s note: hello my little angels! Thank you all so much for encouraging me to finally write Rhiannon’s story! This is gonna be a slow burn so no pairings for quite some time! But we’ll get there eventually! Let me know what you think! also, my first time posting anything I’ve written so here we go!

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The year was 1891 and crisp October air hung heavily over the hills of West Elizabeth, almost like the earth itself could feel the oncoming destruction. Bouts of rolling thunder warned of storms as a slight drizzle began. That day was one that Rhiannon couldn’t forget- forced to remember it all in cold, vivid unease. To forever re-live the way time seemed to slow to a crawl and how her life changed forever. Rain pattered infrequently upon the roof, whispering gentle secrets to the aged wood and carrying hushed rumors of hoofbeats on the wind. Rhiannon sat at an old oak table in the kitchen of her home wearing a lacey white cotton dress with a blue seer-suckered apron. Bare feet swung softly under her seat, while her chubby hands gripped a small knife and peeled potatoes. Her mother stood at the sink rinsing collard greens, humming a sweet song while she worked. She always had Rhiannon help make supper with her, not only did it make things move along quicker, but it always melted her heart to see her little girl more than happy to help- asking what she could do and batting her sweet blue eyes sincerely. Rhiannon paused and glanced over to her mom and began to hum along with her.

Emily Gadsby was a good mother overall, she sacrificed everything for her kids, wanted nothing but the best for them. In fact, maybe Emily cared so deeply for her children that she couldn’t properly show it- she was good to her kids yes, but- she was smothering and jaded. She found herself unable to fully make known her true feelings anymore, especially not after her late husband, Jessie Gadsby’s death. Rhiannon was barely five when he went missing, and her two brothers, bowie and Jareth, thirteen and fifteen respectively. All pretty young to be alone without a man of the house to care for them. Since their parents were first married they loved the orchard, vowing to work hard to make a good life for their little family and to stay loyal to each other. But Mr. Gadsby always had a problem when it came to gambling. Most days he would come home flat broke, lost all the money he had on him. That’s how when Jessie never came home from a trip down to strawberry, Emily knew something wasn’t right. Gambling got dangerous, and only God knew how desperate Jessie would get. She had Bowie stay home with Rhiannon and took Jareth with her into town to report Jessie’s missing to the law. The lawmen never did find him. Not a body or even Jessie’s horse- all they could give the family was their condolences and sorrowful nods. The Gadsby family mourned their loved one and tried to move on best they could. But without their father, it just wasn’t the same. It may have been easier, had they had closure, but they truly didn’t even know if he had died or not. Life on their homestead grew drearily stagnant. The boys just couldn’t take it anymore, so they left the old orchard. It broke Emily’s heart to see them go, but there wasn’t anything she could do to change their minds. She cried as she watched them spur off the property and onto the dirt road leading away from the home. Rhiannon just held onto her mother’s hand and cried with her. After they left, Mrs. Gadsby was only a shell of the woman she used to be. Caring for the horses and rows of apple trees herself, leaving the housework to little Rhiannon. The years crawled on with little incident, even though Rhi could’ve sworn that when she went to bed some nights, she could hear her mother arguing on the front porch with someone.

Emily smiled at her daughter’s humming, grabbing a dishtowel and patting the deep green leaves dry. she wiped her hands with the towel and turned to face her daughter with a warm sigh,” My sweet fawn, how about you leave the rest of supper to me?” Emily walked over to the table and placed her hand on Rhiannon’s back, “I think it would suit you more to go pick some apples for me.” Rhiannon blinked up to her mother in confusion, “Sure momma, but why do we need them?” She set the small knife down and rested her hands on her lap, wiping them slightly on her apron. “well,” Emily grinned, “I was thinking of making that special apple pie you like tomorrow.” Rhiannon’s face lit up immediately and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “you mean the cinnamon one?” her mother nodded, “the cinnamon one.” Rhiannon jumped up and threw her arms around Emily’s neck, “Thank you! thank you, momma! It's my favorite!” She held her daughter close to her chest and patted her back. Rhiannon skipped over to the back door, a wicker picnic basket was sat on the floor waiting for her. “Hold on now, don’t forget your shoes Rhi.” Emily held out a pair of worn brown boots to her. “Oh right.” Rhiannon grabbed her boots and slipped them on before sweeping the basket off the floor. “Be quick now baby, it’ll be getting dark soon.” She brushed golden strands of hair from her daughter’s face before kissing the top of her head. “Yes ma’am!” The young girl beamed with a bright toothy grin and practically bounced out the back door.  The heavy oak door slammed shut behind the young girl as she bounded off the back stoop and down the weathered stairs.

The world was blue as the sun fled from an overcast sky, and the over-grown buffalo grass whipped in the dampened breeze. Rhiannon traipsed through the small clearing behind her house towards the rows of apple trees. Their branches hung heavy with golden-red fruit, perfectly plump for the autumn harvest. Rhiannon waltzed up underneath the limbs and searched for only the best ones, small hands reaching up to pluck the ripened fruit from its stem. The world grew nearly silent in those moments, not a bird called upon the wind, and the breeze seemed to hush into quiet nothings. Rhiannon could only hear the thumping of her heart in her chest and the shuffle of her feet on the soil below, until a distant rumble spurred butterflies from her belly into her throat- hoof beats. Her mother always told her when they had guests coming, she never mentioned people to her, who was approaching? The air around her crackled with an electric tension that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, something wasn’t right. The wicker basket hit the ground as Rhiannon hastily walked from the trees towards her home. Nervousness still fluttered in her chest as she entered the clearing, her gut told her to run as the sound grew closer and louder. Horses whinnied and men shouted through the woods and down the path to her home. Rhiannon had just turned 10 when they came. There was no reason for the devastation they brought, it was downright violent, unjustified- greedy. She bounded up the stairs and threw the door open, “Momma!” she called out running into the living room, spotting Emily with her back to her.

When Rhiannon had gone outside to pick the apples Emily sighed at the now empty kitchen and walked out to the front porch for some air. She heard them first, shouting and riding onto the Gadsby’s property. She hadn’t told Rhi what had been happening for a while now, how the men would come to their home and demand money, that Jessie had gotten into bad business- gambled and borrowed from the wrong gang. Emily knew that Jessie had been killed for his debts, and that even his life hadn’t paid them off. They warned her that if she didn’t cough the rest of the cash up, that they would come and take what they were owed, Emily just didn’t know that it would be so soon.

Emily had been crying before Rhiannon came in and turned to hug her daughter when she heard her call out. She squeezed her so tight as sobs shook through her lungs. Rhiannon held onto her mother, she didn’t know what was happening and began to cry too. Emily stroked her daughter’s flaxen hair and whispered through her cries, “Rhiannon, Momma loves you baby.” The young girl was about to say something back when the banging on the front door began. Emily, startled, jumped at the sound before cupping her daughter’s face in her hands and wiping the tears from her fat reddened cheeks. She leaned in and held her lips onto her daughter’s forehead, the knocks came upon the door- louder now,” Mrs. Gadsby, I know you’re in there. C’mon and cough up that money. You know we had a deal!” a man growled from the other side of the door. Emily lifted her head and looked into Rhiannon’s eyes, she looked wild and panicked, something Rhi had never seen on her mother’s face before. She gripped her daughter’s arms and her voice faltered, “You know I don’t have it Colm! That was Jessie's business NOT mine.” Rhiannon’s eyes grew wide at her mother’s words, Emily never talked about him anymore, his name was practically forbidden in that household. She broke from her mother’s hold and gripped her slightly wrinkled hands in her own. “Momma what’s happening?” her brows were furrowed, and her blue eyes were dull and glossy with tears, she searched her mother’s face for a change in expression, an explanation in her eyes, anything. “Rhiannon baby, I can’t—” she whispered before the man shouted again, “You’ve got about five minutes to let me in Emily. Or I’m coming in whether you like it or not.” Her petite body trembled as Rhiannon entered full panic mode, hyperventilating and looking around frantically. Emily grabbed her daughter’s chin, forcing her to look her in the eyes, “Promise me that you’ll be strong, my courageous fawn?” Rhiannon’s breathing slowed and she took long deep breaths, she nodded gripping onto her mother’s dress, “Yes Ma’am.” Emily stood up straight and walked with Rhiannon to the fireplace.

On the Mantle sat a wooden box with ornate carvings of nature scenes, Jessie’s mother had made it when she found out Rhiannon was going to be born. she always said that she knew that baby would be a girl, such a strong girl that would, “Tame a wolf and bring a bison to his knees in one glance.” Emily frantically opened the box a pulled out a necklace. “Please take this, never let it go. Remember who you are my lion-hearted girl.” The necklace was silver and thick, the chain was made up of many links braided together with a “t-ball” closure. On the bottom hung a pendant cast from pewter, it was in the shape of a bird with wide eyes and a large beak, wings outstretched facing forward. Emily brought the chain around Rhiannon’s neck and threaded it closed. Rhiannon looked down at the large chain that dangled in the middle of her chest before hugging her mother once more. “I love you Momma,” Rhiannon whispered, choking out a sob. Her mother held her to her chest and stroked her back, “I love you.”

Suddenly more yelling came from the front of the house, “Times up Emily! You know what to do boys!” gunfire erupted at the front door, bullets broke through the wood and shattered the glass windows. “RUN!” Emily bellowed at her daughter, pushing her through the house and out the back door. The last thing Rhiannon heard before the door slammed behind her was the splintering of the front one as it flew off its hinges. She wanted to stay, her mom was her rock, her safe place, all she had ever known and loved- but in her gut, she knew she had to go, she had to run. Rhiannon leaped from the stairs and into the grass, stumbling on her feet. She ran as fast as her feet could take her, only looking back when she heard men shouting to not let her get away. She heaved through the post-sunset darkness, past the orchard and into the forest that surrounded her home. Her heart was in her ears and felt like it was going to pound out of her head, her breathing was frantic and uneven, she wheezed, and her lungs burned for air. Her small feet bounded down hills and through the underbrush, dodging bullets that flew in her direction. She was like a rabbit, eyes wide and searching for refuge- her body screamed at her to hide, to disappear until it was over. She plunged wildly, deeper into the thicket until she came upon an old cabin that’s roof was caved in. a small voice in the back of her head told her not to go in, but under. There was a small gap in the planks where a crawlspace would be. Rhiannon fought her way in through the tiny opening and scratched at weeds and pine needles attempting to get in. She gave one good push and ripped into the crawlspace, a nail catching the top of her dress, ripping a long gash into the cotton fabric, slicing her collar bone. She grunted in pain and shuffled into the darkest corner underneath the cabin. She was still crying and shaking, now bleeding too, she strained her ears to listen for the men that were on her tail, fighting to quiet her heaving breath. When footsteps crashed into the area around the cabin, she covered her mouth to keep silent. Adrenaline pumped through her ears as someone walked into the cabin above her. “Fuck, I- I knew she went this way, sir,” a man grumbled as he paced the floor. She could hear him move things around up there, presumably in search of her. Another set of steps thumped up the stairs, “Well she ain't in here, is she now?” the second man hissed. It was the same one from the front door, this sent chills of pure fear down Rhiannon’s spine. His voice would forever be burned into her brain. “No sir, she ain't—” “Then I suggest you get your ass out there and search this whole goddamned property for the little one. I’m gonna get my money's worth from this sorry family.” New, hot tears rolled down Rhiannon’s cheeks in the realization of what was really happening now. “You know what, forget it. Come on back with us up to the house, there’s a show you don’t wanna miss!” Colm heartily wheezed out a gritty laugh at his own words. Rhiannon felt as though her scalp was on fire and she was covered in goosebumps. The men stomped out of the cabin and headed back through the woods laughing and talking under their breath.

All that she could do is curl up in the dirt and cry. The adrenaline rush was gone now, and her right clavicle was burning in pain and she saw now the blood the stained her dress and apron. She had never been so confused or afraid in her life, she didn’t even know who these men were, why they wanted money, or what they were going to do with her mother. The October chill finally reached her then and she shivered letting out small sighs of pain and exhaustion. Her eyes grew heavy and her breathing slowed to a steady pace. Sleep took her shortly after and her pain was numbed until the morning. The night drawled on and the world stayed silent, now all that replaced the sounds of the orchard was the shouting of men and the striking of matches. A mother wept at the loss of everything she had, her family, her home, her only baby girl. Flames lapped at an old oak home, whispering angry apologies at the aged wood and carrying ashes onto the wind.

~

The rain came with the dawn, rousing the earth with bouts of rolling thunder. Rhiannon woke to the sound of rain pattering the trees and rotten wood above her.  She felt stale and weary, numb- even, unaware of the devastation that reigned the previous night. She sat up on her hip and winced at the pain in her shoulder. The memories of before came rushing back and the lump in her throat threatened to bring the tears as well. Crawling towards the opening, she realized how hungry she was, and just how thirsty as well. She was careful to avoid the nail this time, slipping out of the crawlspace and onto the forest floor. The light of day was blinding, and she squinted trying to find the way that she had run from. Gingerly, she slinked through the woods and towards the orchard. The air had a strange smell, like gunpowder, ash, and rain. Rhiannon looked down as she lugged through the underbrush and up small hills until she reached the tree line. She noticed her home, the place that she was born was nothing more than a half-burned up pile of cinder. Parts of the wood were steaming from the sun shower that glided over the land. She tip-toed through the clearing and up to the back stoop of the home. She ran her hands along the charred railing and carefully stepped through the doorway. It was dark inside, only illuminated from the sun shining through where windows used to be. “Momma?” Rhiannon called out to her mother, no response. She made her way into the living room and still no sign of her mother. The home that was once filled with smiles and laughter was just empty and blackened. She checked the mantle for the box her grandmother made, but it was gone. Her footsteps were like gunfire against the hardwood, booming against the deafening silence inside. She walked around to the kitchen but found nothing. The collards still lay on the counter where Emily left them, and the potatoes on the table. Rhiannon could feel her gut turning, as she walked to the front doorway, the door itself hanging by a thread on one set of hinges. Her hands trembled as she stepped through the doorway lingering to stabilize herself on the charred wood. The porch was covered in bullet holes and was burned the worst. Parts of the railing were gone completely, and half of the overhand was caved in. she stepped carefully down the stairs and onto the wet grass. That was when she saw her. Lying face down in the grass was Emily Gadsby. Her golden blonde hair was soaked with rain and blood, and her dress was muddy and stained. Cries shook from Rhiannon’s throat as she ran to her mother’s side. She rasped out a cry, “Please get up Momma, please!” she shook Emily’s arm and rolled her over. Her body was limp and cold, over Emily’s heart there was a bullet wound and bloodstains around it. Rhiannon’s tears came out as screams as she held onto her mother. She was truly alone now, the only person she really knew was gone. Her grief was immeasurable, something she never felt before, losing her father was hard but not like this. Rhiannon felt the bile rise from her stomach as she looked upon her mother. She leaned away and vomited at the sight, retching until nothing came but dry heaves. She choked out sobs and curled up beside her mother’s body. From the woods came a new group of men, drawn by her shrieks.

When Rhiannon heard them and their horses she hardly even looked up, she figured that anything they would do to her couldn’t be worse than losing her mother. She only snapped her head to look at them when an older man dismounted and approached her. “Leave me alone, please!” she was hoarse, and her voice cracked at the plea. He extended his arms outward as if dealing with a wild animal, “It’s alright my dear, we’re not going to hurt you,” he reached a hand out to me, “I promise.” He looked to be about Emily’s age, maybe older. His hair was platinum with streaks of silver near his ears. He had deep wrinkles in his forehead and cheeks. His eyes were kind and frightened as well. Rhiannon looked up at him and sniffled, letting him come closer. He stuttered out, “My name is Hosea Matthews, I mean you no harm.” He was about a foot from Rhiannon then, and he leaned down slightly, “What’s your name dear?” She trembled and stood, reaching out and taking his hand for stability. “Rhiannon Marie Gadsby” she choked out barely above a whisper. He stayed at the same distance, not wanting to scare her. She kept glancing behind Hosea though, watching the men behind him as they dismounted as well. A chill ran down her spine as she backed up a step. Hosea turned to the two men who were approaching then back to Rhiannon. His eyes wandered to the gash on her right shoulder and he grew more concerned for the young girl. “What happened here, do you know?” he reached both hands out to her gently. Rhiannon felt her chest tighten with sadness, “th-these men came and shot the house and momma made me run and I hid and when I came back she was gone—” She choked on her words and sobbed, crashing into his arms. He was shocked that she embraced him, but he stroked her hair and cooed,” I’m so sorry my dear.” He felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, “There there it’ll be alright.” He whispered as he held her. Rhiannon was still terribly frightened and was relieved to have someone comfort her, she squeezed him tight and whimpered into his coat. “Do have any idea who did this?” he questioned, not letting go of her yet. “I- don’t know. Uh, momma called one man Colm- I never met him in my life.” Hosea sighed and looked over to another who was by his side now, they shared a knowing look and the other man cursed. Rhiannon looked up when the other man came closer to them, she clung to Hosea and hid under his arm slightly. The other man leaned down to talk to her, “Hello Miss Gadsby, my name is Dutch Van Der Linde,” He sighed inwardly as she barely met his eyes, “please don’t be afraid. You see, we may be bad men, but we are nothing like the ones who did this. That I can promise you my darling.” He was younger than Hosea, with black, slicked-back curls. His eyes were deep like coal and soft when he looked at Rhiannon. He reached out and took her small hand, holding it with a firm but comforting grip. “you are safe with us now, Miss Rhiannon.” He smiled slightly and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. All that she could do is nod at his words and look over to Hosea who held her other hand. “Come now, we’ll get you warm and dry soon.” He led Rhiannon away from the front of the house and towards their horses. Two other men were standing there that she hadn’t met, they didn’t say anything, just sent her pitiful glances. “This is my horse, Silver Dollar. Have you ridden a horse before Miss Gadsby?” Hosea asked before drawing his coat from himself, placing it on Rhiannon’s shoulders, helping her put her arms through the sleeves. The young girl reached up to stroke the horse’s velvety nose, and sighed, “Yes sir, I have.” Rhiannon pulled the coat closer around her chest and snuggled into the warmth. “Then this should be a breeze for you dear.” He smiled and gestured her over. He helped her up into the saddle before lifting himself up as well. Dutch approached the two of them and his face softened at Rhiannon, “We will take good care of you- we will.” He patted Silver Dollar’s neck before walking away. He whispered with one of the other men before nodding, turning away and mounting his own horse. It was when Dutch took the lead and Hosea spurred his horse forward that all the feelings came back. Rhiannon began to cry silently, tears rolling down her rosy dappled cheeks, sniffling occasionally. She was not alone but she sure felt all by herself. She knew from then on, that life just wasn’t gonna be the same, nothing could ever go back to the way it was before.  

It was then that the forest around them was chittering with life again, the storm had passed, the night grew into day and the autumn breeze sung through the pines. Young Does bounded through the underbrush and songbirds found themselves on the wing once more. There may be burnt remains of past life but like the woods after a wildfire, new growth sprouts proudly from the ashes, beginning anew.

[strwxberrymilk]

Sneaky peaky 👀

This here to your left is Mr. Arthur Morgan. He may not admit it but he’s a good man, has been the fourteen years I’ve known him- bit of a trouble maker though.” Mr. Matthews chimed brightly. An amused scoff was heard from Mr. Morgan at his introduction. His eyes met mine and he grinned, offering a courteous “Miss,” with a dip of his hat. I smiled back politely, “A pleasure to meet you Mr. Morgan.” He was younger than Mr. Matthews and Mr. Van Der Linde. His hair was a dishwater blonde, darker than mine, and his eyes were deep, blue and honest. Most notibly though was his smile, beautiful and genuine, one you’d have a hard time forgetting.

Whew okay y’all!!

So I’m in the process of writing the early sections of Rhiannon’s start with the gang!!! It’s still in a very early part of production and a huge work in progress but I’m excited to bring this story in my head into writing!

I’m also new to actually posting things I write, so this’ll be a learning experience for sure!

Also huge thank you to my sweet friends @un-official-artist and @emily-strange for inspiring me to write and being some of my biggest supporters!!

[strwxberrymilk]

I’m finally actually typing up the paper draft of Rhiannon’s story! Shocking I know lol

I still haven’t thought of a good title yet, but we’re getting somewhere!! I’m excited to start this project and sorta gather my thoughts for Rhiannon’s character!! And just letting y’all know, this is gonna be a long ride so buckle up!! ;)

Perfect thing for this rainy day!

[strwxberrymilk]

hey do you do writing requests? i really like your stuff and i think you would be good at it.

Hey sweet anon! 💗

I do not at the moment, but if y’all really are interested feel free to send some in! You can even message me your favorite promt lists as well.

I’m pretty new to posting the stuff I write so this is super encouraging, thank you sugarplum!