#wanted to add love led us here but I’m still searching Spotify for the right version 😤 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katehuntington · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part twelve) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Ash Miller, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part twelve: After finally opening up to each other, Dean is having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. But the flirting is soon interrupted when one of the horses gets caught in a dangerous situation. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘How Far This Road Goes’ - Gareth Dunlop, ‘Seven Riders’ - James Horner & Simon Franklin (second scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

With a grin wider than the horizon, Dean puts the rolled-up mattress on Ted’s back, attaching it behind the saddle by tying the leather strings around it. He barely slept last night, but he doesn’t feel tired, not in the slightest. Nothing will get him off this high cloud, because last night, he kissed Y/N. The head wrangler hums a Led Zeppelin tune as he tightens Ted’s cinch a little, patting his four legged friend on the shoulder when he’s done. Joplin is waiting next to him, rather impatiently, tied up to the strung rope between a boulder and a tree, like the other seven horses. Her female rider moves in between the dark mare and Ted, causing Dean to fight back an amused scoff. Y/N could have tacked up Joplin from the left side, which is the usual protocol when handling a horse. But instead, the cowgirl chose the small space between the two large animals, the space Dean already occupied, making it a tight fit. “Morning, Yankee,” he teases, still with his back towards hers as he secures his lasso. “G’morning,” she greets back. “Were you humming ‘Whole Lotta Love’ just now?” Dean chuckles now, “I’ve got a reason to be cheery.”

Y/N presses her lips together, very much aware why her supervisor is in such a good mood. She is also very much aware that he’s only inches away, the two almost touching. The chemistry is evident and she needs to remind herself that the others are also readying their horses; they are not alone like they were last night. Giving her hands something to do, she checks the saddle bags again, even though she has done so already. “Did you sleep well last night?” Dean wonders casually, but she caught the lower tone in his voice. That tone that makes her heart beat faster and has her closing her eyes and taking a moment to compose herself. “I did actually. A little short, though,” Y/N returns. “What about you?” “Oh, I couldn’t sleep.”

She can hear Dean’s boots crunch the gravel underneath them as he turns around. He comes closer and Y/N forgets what she’s doing, one hand holding the stirrup, might she need the support. She feels his hand on her hip, the touch so featherlight that she could be imagining it. Holding still while he moves in, she fights a shocked whimper when his breath fans past the junction between her neck and her shoulder. How contradicting; the warm breeze leaves goosebumps over her entire body. “How come?” she manages to utter, her voice close to failing. Y/N feels his lips against her hair, but he doesn’t kiss her there, even though she silently begs him to do exactly that. She moves into his touch only slightly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers in her ear.

Before the others notice, he moves away and his hand slips from her hip, leaving a burning sensation where his fingertips gently pressed into her skin through the fabric of her jeans. The cowboy who has clearly found his way into her heart and her mind, shoots her a wink over his shoulder when she follows him with her gaze. Chuckling, she shakes her head in response. It’s a good thing she held onto the saddle, because her knees feel weak. God, the things he’s doing to her. “Y’all ready to mount your ponies?” Benny checks, before he gets on his horse himself. When all the wranglers have untied their horses, Dean rolls up the rope that functioned as a makeshift fence and adds it to the load carried by one of the pack-horses. He then puts his left foot in the stirrup and swiftly moves his leg over the saddle, the fringes of his chaps whipping when the breeze catches them. The others follow his example.

“Alright. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. We ride to the next spring, but it will be roughly six miles from here. That’s more ground to cover than yesterday. It will be rocky terrain, so stay sharp and keep up.” Dean turns his horse with the reins in one hand. “Don’t forget to keep an eye out for the herd. They were last seen in Marsh Valley by hikers, but that was four days ago, so they could be long gone by now. If we don’t find them by the time we reach White Rock Spring, we’ll set up camp there and continue the search tomorrow. Y’all good with that?”

The rest of the company agrees, both wranglers and horses excited to get moving. Joplin especially; the waiting has made her impatient. She rears, lifting her front hooves a couple of inches from the ground, repeating the action several times. Y/N rides it out, her hand reaching to pat the hot blooded mare on the neck in order to calm her down. In perfect balance she gives her horse enough freedom of reign, but controls the movements with her seat. “Joplin certainly is,” she laughs, amused with the mare’s enthusiasm. “Alright then,” Dean returns grinning, admiring her riding skills for a moment longer. “Let’s ride.”

It’s past midday and there is no sign of the herd so far. The group of riders passed Weavers Needle hours ago, a thousand foot column of rock that forms a distinctive peak, visible from many miles away. Y/N felt so tiny when she rode through the landmark’s shadow, like an ant on the forest ground. She quite possibly strained a muscle in her neck from looking up, but the young woman from the North couldn’t help herself. The landscape, created by volcanoes ages ago and molded by wind and time, leaves her in complete awe. The further they travel into the Superstitions, the more surreal the scenery becomes.

Benny told stories last night about the mountains. About the legend of the Lost Dutch Gold Mine, and the hundreds of other abandoned tunnels, hidden in the volcanic stone. About the Indians, how some of them believe that the hole that leads down into ‘the lower world’ is located somewhere in these valleys, and that winds blowing from it create the severe dust storms in the metropolitan area. It’s a magical environment that, despite having a desert climate, seems alive. The way the wind plays with her horse’s mane and whispers as it breathes through the canyon. The way the mesquite bushes rustle and the Saguaro cacti reach their arms for the blue heavens above. This land has a personality of its own; unpredictable, layered and rich with wisdom.

“Enjoying the view?” Dean held up his horse as Y/N was staring up at the renmands. She didn’t even notice she fell behind. “Sorry…” she mutters apologetic. “It’s just… everything here is so beautiful.” “Sure is.” The cowboy smirks at her, not just complimenting the landscape. Joplin’s rider is unable to hide her flattered smile. “You can stop trying to win me over,” she returns jokingly, resting her hand behind her on the cantle of the saddle. Dean side eyes Y/N, triumph in the way he holds himself, “Because I already did, right?” “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warns. “Last night was amazing, but it was just a kiss.” “Oh, I didn’t plan to stop,” he makes clear, copying her action without noticing, gripping the back of the saddle with his free hand as well. “Next chance I get, I’m gonna kiss you again.” “Is that so?” she teases. “Unless you’d rather not have me.” Dean observes her, eager to pick up on her reaction.

His lower leg brushes against hers, the metal of the stirrups jingling when they collide. He stares into her eyes longer than he should, breaking through the resistance with more ease than Y/N wants him to. Honestly, she has never been an easy catch. She pictured she would at least let him work for it, prove to her that this isn’t just a fling. But her defense crumbles with every connection, no matter how small. The intern can’t help but crave for her supervisor to touch her, to kiss her right here and right now. Both of them being on horses complicates things, however, especially since one of those horses is Joplin, who is getting anxious now that she is a few hundred yards away from the group. “I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N admits, on a more serious note. Dean smiles, delighted at that, looking down at his horse for a brief second. “You oughta catch up then.”

The wrangler moves his hand forward and pushes his heels to his horses flanks simultaneously, the aid triggering Ted to shoot forward like an arrow from a bow. Without giving Y/N a chance to respond, Joplin’s instincts kick in; she needs to stay with the herd. In a blink of an eye she bolts, surprising her rider, who can only just prevent a squeal from escaping her throat. The experienced rider is quick to recover, though. She moves her weight forward, allowing her horse to move under her freely, giving her all the reins she needs. Within five strides, Joplin is at full speed. Y/N can’t recall that she ever galopped this fast. The wind pushes the tears from the corner of her eyes, dust blocking her view. Her hat falls back, but she’s quick enough to catch it and push it tighter on her head. She doesn’t care, though, because she feels like she’s flying.

Before they reach the others, Dean sits back in the saddle and pulls the reins, telling Ted with a ‘ho!’ to slow down. Joplin is next to him within a second, her rider laughing out loud. The cowboy watches her, laughter erupting from his throat as well. “You’re crazy!” Y/N accused, a wide grin on her lips nonetheless. “What if I had fallen off?” “You’re too good of a rider,” he returns, never worried she couldn’t handle herself. “And it’s about time you let go.” “I usually don’t like losing control,” she returns, trying to be stern. He cocks his eyebrow. “You didn’t mind last night.” “Underlining ‘usually’,” she repeats with a tone, shaking her head at the up-to-no-good grin on his face.

“Well, you—” He points his finger at her accusingly before he pushes his hat up a bit. “— should loosen up a bit. Picture it like riding.” Y/N frowns at the wrangler next to her. “I thought we were talking about riding.” “It doesn’t matter. What does, is if you hold onto the reins too tight, your horse will tense up. You will tense up. But if you relax at the right moment…” He moves his hand forward, giving Ted enough space to drop his head and the gelding blows out a satisfied sigh. “So will your horse. You allow things to be. And those are the best rides, ain’t they? The ones where the balance is perfect, and everything just clicks.”

Y/N agrees to that without words, smiling at the comparison. Dean lets the true meaning of his message sink in as well. It’s good advice he’s giving. Maybe he should take it himself. In silence they take each other in. She has rolled up the sleeves of her dusty shirt for the warm breeze to caress her bare skin. Not so long ago, Y/N came walking into the Saloon, ironed button up, polished shoes, hair band and clips not allowing a single stubborn strand to spring free. Look at her now, like she couldn’t care less about appearance. Look how beautiful she is. “By the way,” the woman next to him recalls, her voice softer so that the tourists can’t hear them. “Hm-hm?” “You were right. That was a lot more than just a kiss.” With those words she canters away, and he’s only able to breath out again when she passes the other riders to lead the group. Don’t be fooled, he’s confident about how things are going, but that doesn’t mean that ‘allowing things to be’ is easy. Even he, the guy who doesn’t plan ahead and takes it day by day, is daunted by the possible commitment that this adventure with Y/N will bring. But one look at her, seeing the change she’s going through, the difference in her demeanor and her lifted confidence; she’s all the inspiration he needs. “You better wipe that smile off your face, Chief, or the coyotes might start wonderin’ why you’re all giddy.” A little startled Dean looks aside as Benny holds back his horse until he’s next to Ted. Caught in the act the head wrangler glares at his friend from under his Stetson, but the smirk doesn’t die down. No need to respond in words, because both know why Dean is on top of the world. And so the two companions ride next to one another for awhile in silence. Dean’s eyes never leave her, though, watching how she handles the bubbly mare, who’s excitement got peaked by the little race. Joplin isn’t for everyone, but she’s taking his advice and gives the dark horse free rein, trusting her, and eventually the mare transitions to a walk.

“Well, now you’re just embarrassingly gaping,” Benny notices, clearly amused by the sight of his lovestruck friend. Dean snaps out of it and eyes him again. It’s not so much the fact that Benny is mocking him, more the fact that he himself can’t get a grip. “Shut up,” Dean mutters, shaking his head chuckling. “You were the one gaping when you interrupted us last night.” “It was 3 AM and I wasn’t even close to awake, and what do I find?” Benny lazily points his finger at the intern, then at the man next to him. “You two, giving each other one hell of a Yankee dime. I mean, don’t get me wrong, brother. I’m proud of ya, but excuse me that I was a little taken aback.” The Southerner pauses, his piercing blue eyes brassy and up to no good. Clearly he enjoys taunting his pal. “Took ya quite a while to notice me too,” he comments, adding fuel to the fire. “I was kinda in the middle of something!” Dean exclaims. “Hell yeah, you were.” Benny sniggers. “Good think I stopped ya right there. At least now you saved some for later.” “I wasn’t gonna go all the way with her,” his friend declares. It doesn’t convince the rider next to him, though, because he laughs out loud. “Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’.” “Dude, I’m serious!” Dean states. “I ain’t gonna rush this.” “Ah-uh.” “I said: shut up.”

The farrier’s laughter is contagious, hiccuping as he takes in air, and his friend can’t help but chuckle as well. The head wrangler adjusts the ranch rope hanging over his horse’s shoulder, the broad smile never wavering. It’s not just the smile, though, that tells Benny that Y/N is the girl for him. It’s his eyes. He has never seen them shine so bright. He has never seen Dean so contented. “You two go together like peas and carrots,” Benny vouches, looking from the cowboy to the cowgirl. “I’m happy for ya, brother.” “You’re talking like we’re about to settle down and get a dog,” Dean scoffs skeptical, even though deep down he wouldn’t mind an outcome as such. “Give it time,” the Southerner recommends confident. “After all, two months ago, you would have thought I was crazy as a soup sandwich, if I’d predicted you to be on cloud nine by now.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Dean sighs in response. He’s not even going to fight his friend on this, Benny is enjoying this way too much to ever let go.

“Dean!” The call comes from the front of the group and it seems urgent. Dean snaps his head to the sound of Y/N’s voice and the clatter of hooves. The intern has turned Joplin around and ridden back to the tourists. One of the pack horses, Cash, who Macy was guiding along side, tries to flee away as he kicks violently to the ground. He spins in circles around the rider and her gelding Jimmi, who is starting to panic as well. “Pull the knot, Macy!” Dean commands, pushing Ted towards the commotion. Fighting to control her own horse, she reaches for the rope that ties Cash to her saddle, trying to yank the safety knot. By this time, however, the distressed animal has pulled on the cord with all its weight, and there is no way it will loosen. “I can’t!” she yells back, fright evident in her voice.

Trying to not get caught up in the line, she steers Jimmi to stay head to head with the anxious pack horse. Dean is with her in a split second, maneuvering Ted close to her and staying free from the web. “Listen to me, Mace. When you’re on the other end, I’m gonna take over.” He takes the end of Cash’s rope, wraps it around the horn of his saddle four times and locks it in his fist, hooking it behind his hip for leverage. “I need you to get yourself to safety the second that rope unties, alright?” He makes eye contact and she nods frightened, all while trying to calm Jimmi, who is getting more claustrophobic by the second. The experienced wrangler then backs up Ted, using his horse’s body weight to pull the safety knot. The second Cash feels the freedom, he bolts. Macy is clear, but the head wrangler and his four hooved partner are about to be catapulted by the horse on a rampage.

Thinking fast, Dean moves his reins towards Ted’s ears, triggering him to rocket forward. Three strides later Dean can feel Cash jerk at the saddle, Ted bracing himself, the well-trained cattle horse maintaining his balance. The rope slips from Dean’s fingers, but he is able to keep his ground, even though the rough material burns in his hand. With tension on the line, the wrangler tries to keep Cash away from a boulder that came rolling down Bluff Spring Mountain, but can’t prevent the panicked horse from slamming the water tank he is carrying into the large rock. Even though drinking water pours from the hole, it’s not Dean’s first concern. Cash is holding his hind leg up, still kicking the ground as the black horse halts, breathing out nervously. Dean spots a trace of blood, just below the fetlock joint. “Shit…” He gets off, dropping Ted’s left rein on the ground, a signal for the horse to stay in place and wait. Shit, shit, shit. Cash, who is shaking and breathing fast after all the commotion, turns his head into the wrangler, seeming to seek comfort from him. Dean gently rubs the gelding’s withers and slips his hand down the hindleg to take a better look. Two distinctive small holes are visible on the white sock, crimson drops rolling down. It seems like barely anything, but he has lived in this area all his life; he knows a snake bite when he sees one. “He got bit,” Dean informs the five wranglers, who are waiting on the path in anticipation. Benny curses under his breath, getting down from his horse as well. “By what? A spider?” Y/N wonders, sticking with the tourists on a safe distance. “Nope.”

The Southerner picks up a stick, poking at something in the bushes. Then he lifts the piece of wood, a snake hanging from the end of it. Macy squeals and Y/N inhales sharply, too. She has never seen a snake up close like that, at least not without thick glass between her and the reptile. God, that thing is huge! “Is it dead?” Dean checks, still standing by the wounded horse. “Dead as steak on the grill,” the Southerner confirms, taking a closer look. “Is it a rattler?”

The head wrangler watches Benny examine the animal as he prays to God that it isn’t. Rattlesnakes in this area are highly dangerous. The amount of venom they possess might not be enough to floor a horse, but it will cause extensive swelling for sure, most likely followed by a bad infection that will cut off the blood supply. A bite inflicted by a venomous snake could be life threatening, even when treated by a veterinarian immediately. Miles from civilization with no access to medical resources, it becomes lethal. “I think it is, Chief.”

Y/N looks over at the head wrangler, who drops his head and swears. It slowly begins to sink in that the consequences of what seems like a small injury might have serious consequences. Dean looks up, making eye contact with the intern and motioning her to come over. She rides Joplin off the path and dismounts the mare, leading her to Cash, who she comfortingly pets on the nose. “Listen to me carefully,” he starts, his voice toned down so that the others can’t hear him, as he instructs the intern calmly. “If that is a rattlesnake, I need you to take the tourists a half a mile up the trail. At the junction, you wait until me and Benny catch up.” “Wait, what are you gonna…” she stammers, hesitant where Dean is going with this.

He bites his bottom lip for a moment and looks deep into her eyes, the urgency apparent in his intense greens. “You’ll be responsible for the guests, so be cautious. Don’t take any risks and keep them safe. I know you’re not familiar with the area and that this is a lot, but can you do that?” “Benny could go with them, he knows these trails,” she suggests, but Dean dismisses it instantly. “No. I don’t want you to see this.” “See wh -” she pauses, his penetrating gaze and tensing jaw stopping her from forming words. Shocked she rakes her fingers through Cash’s forelock, only now realizing the difficult task that Dean is facing. “Oh my God, you’re gonna put him down.”

He doesn’t answer, but swallows apprehensively. If Cash has venom coursing through his bloodstream, his chances of survival can be considered zero. A slow and agonizing death awaits him; a bullet to the head would be the most moral way to go. The head wrangler takes a deep breath, composes himself, and shifts his gaze to Benny. Seems like he’s going to have to use the Colt after all. “I’m gonna check out the snake, make sure it’s a rattler. If it is, you know what to do?” Y/N nods uneasy, but determined enough to assure Dean that she can do her part. He thanks her without saying anything, his eyes softening. Then he moves past her, heading back to the trail. Left stunned, she lets her hand glide down Cash’s nose, trying to ease the horse, who in his turn gently presses his large head against her chest. Even though Y/N barely knows the horse, tears prick in her eyes. Poor, poor thing. She looks over her shoulder, watching in apprehension, how the head wrangler crouches down next to Benny, who has the snake at the end of a stick.

Dean pokes the reptile to make sure it’s dead, taking a good look at the animal. The light brown color with dark blotches on its back and smaller dark spots on its side, are indications that Benny is right. He can’t tell much when examining the head, since Cash killed the snake with a fierce kick and smashed its skull. Dean picks up the animal by the tale. It looks different from the rest of its body, but there is no rattle at the tip of it, like he has seen before with the Western Diamondback that is common in the area. He sighs relieved. “It’s a Gopher snake,” he states. “A Sonoran, by the looks of it. Smart fellas; they mimic rattlesnakes to ward off predators.” “Could’ve fooled me,” Benny concedes. “Not venomous?” Y/N checks. Dean smiles her way. “Not venomous.” A weight falls off her shoulders, and the female wrangler rustles Cash’s mane thankfully. She exchanges a look with Dean, silent conversation easing the both of them. Then the group leader turns to the tourists. “Alright y’all, let’s take a break here,” he decides, beckoning at the shade near the big boulders. “Is Cash gonna be okay?” Macy asks worried. “He’s gonna be fine. We’ll rest up for half an hour, meanwhile fix that water tank. Benny? Let’s repack so that we can take the load off Cash.” Dean turns to look at the farrier, who nods in agreement.

They leave the snake for the vultures and move away from the trail. While Benny and Brad tack down Cash and focus on repairing the tank with duct tape, saving the water that remains in the tank by catching it with their water bottles, Dean focuses on the black gelding’s injury. Y/N strolls past him between the horses, who have taken cover in the shade. She watches how the cowboy flushes the puncture wounds with water, despite the fact that Cash keeps lifting his hind leg. “Do you need an assistant?” He looks over his shoulder and nods. “Could you hold him for a sec?” She takes Cash by the rope that he fought so hard minutes ago, rubbing the bay’s shoulder in order to distract him. It works, because the gelding puts his foot down, allowing Dean to press a gauze soaked with betadine on the small holes. “There,” he says satisfied, when he’s done cleaning the punctures.

Y/N lets go of Cash’s halter, picking up the bottle of betadine from the first aid kit, together with a clean gauze pad. “Your turn.” She nods at his hand.“Show me that.” Dean brushes it off. “It’s nothin’.” His intern isn’t having it, though, and after shooting him a glare she takes his right hand and turns it over. Despite that his palm is calloused from years of ranch work, the rope has burned off parts of his skin, leaving fiery blisters. “I wouldn’t file that under ‘nothin’,” she returns stern, mocking his slang. Dean can’t help but grin at that, surrendering to her care. The smirk turns into a grimace when she dabs the damaged tissue with iodine. “Sorry,” she apologizes when she notices him tensing up. “It’s okay,” he assures, looking at her fondly, despite the sting. Y/N blushes at his expression, breaking away from his warm eyes and focusing on his hand again. She applies a clean gauze and dresses his hand, taping the end of the bandage so that it won’t come off. He checks his hand from both sides, impressed with her work. “How do you know how to do that?” The cowgirl shrugs. “I have three brothers who never failed to miss an opportunity to fall from their treehouse or trip while chasing each other through the woods. You do the math.” Dean chuckles, testing the movement of his fingers as he turns towards the other men, who are still working on the tank. On his way over, he glances at the young woman again. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” she returns happily, walking past Joplin to pick her water bottle from the saddle bag.

Joining Macy and Jon, she makes the most of what remains of the half hour break, while the other wranglers try to repair the tank. Having lost most of the water, they don’t waste too much time resting up here and decide to move on to White Rock Spring. The other horses take over Cash’s tack, who only has to carry the empty tank. The gelding already puts full weight on his injured leg, the wounds so superficial that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Twenty minutes later Y/N puts her left foot in the stirrup and hoists herself in the saddle. Her limbs are tired, her back is beginning to hurt. Day two of this trail is taking more out of her than she expected, not only physically, but also mentally, after the close call with Cash. Even though it’s early afternoon, she hopes that Dean and Benny will decide to call it a day, once the group reaches the spring.

It doesn’t take long before they pass the rock formation of Black Top Mesa and reach the T-junction Dean described earlier, left leading into Marsh Valley, right to Charlebois Canyon. The two Gold Canyon Ranchers leading the company have stopped just off the trail on the top of a hill. She catches a glimpse of Benny’s face, and he does not look pleased. Not sure if it’s her place to join them, since she’s the intern, she hesitates to ride up to the wranglers, but takes her chances a few seconds later. Dean did involve her when Cash suffered that possibly dangerous injury, afterall. Joplin halts next to Ted as her gaze jumps between the two riders. “Something wrong?” she wonders. “What’s missin’ here, Yankee?” Benny counters, without answering her question.

Y/N looks ahead, down Charlebois Canyon. The land is dry and dusty, rocks and volcanic remnants more evident in the landscape. Now that she’s made aware that something is unusual about this picture, she remembers that the canyons east of Weavers Needle were much greener. More plants and bushes, more life. “Water,” the female wrangler realizes. “There’s no water.” “Yep,” Benny confirms. “That spring is supposed to be over yonder.” “But how can there be no spring? It rained cats and dogs a week ago,” she wonders confused. “Welcome to Arizona, where it can be raining like a cow’s pissin’ on a flat rock on one side of the road while the sun shines on the other,” the Southerner states.

Dean is quiet, the gears in his head turning as he blankly stares ahead. He’s holding his reins with his unharmed hand, the leather feeling a little foreign, since he hardly ever rides left-handed. There are a few more springs close by, but since the whole canyon looks dry and dead, except for a few Saguaro cacti, he’s guessing that those ran dry too. Biting his bottom lip he glances over his shoulder in the direction where they came from, then north. “What do we do now?” Y/N inquires, her eyes shifting from Benny to Dean. “Chief?” the farrier checks with his friend, when he doesn’t respond. “How far do you think it is to Eagle’s Nest?” he questions. “About six miles?” “Give or take,” the Southerner affirms. Dean ponders, but then turns Ted around to face the three approaching tourists. “We’ve run into a bit of an issue,” he starts, updating the guests on the newly occurred problem. “White Rock Spring has dried up, and looking at the vegetation, I don’t think it’s wise to continue east. We’re not gonna find water there, which also means that the herd is most likely elsewhere. The way I see it, we’ve got two options: we either turn around and ride four and a half miles back to Willow Spring, or we move north to Salt River.” “How far is that?” Brad asks as the dark haired student rests his wrists on the horn of his saddle. “Six miles,” Dean declares. “If we leave now, we’ll hopefully make it by sunset. We need an inventory on water and food supplies. And I need y’all - and this is really important - to be one hundred percent certain that you’re up for another six hours in the saddle. If anyone ain’t, we will turn around to the Willow and cut our losses for today. No shame in it.”

The leader of the company now turns to Macy, who has Cash waiting next to her. The black horse looks alert and calm, his weight on all four hooves. “How’s he doing?” Dean wonders. “He seems fine. He’s sound, even in a jog just now,” she returns, having kept an eye on the gelding next to her. Dean nods, but not completely satisfied. He’s torn. Torn between pushing through and marching on to Salt River, or taking the safe route back to where they came from. Going back feels like giving up. It will be another day without a trace of the herd, another day of wasting time and energy. They have enough food with them for five days. Heading back might be a crucial setback, one that could lead to returning home without the group of young horses. He promised Ellen and Bobby to bring them in, but he also promised to keep everyone safe.

“How much water do we have left?” he checks. After a quick count, they come to the conclusion that they have about 10 liters between the six of them, the horses not even included. The animals are used to these circumstances, though, and they can go without water for three to four days. Dean is confident they should be okay. It’s the riders he’s worried about: both the tourists and Y/N. Dean sighs, looking up the trail from Marsh Valley that leads into the mountains. “Is there anyone who wants to go back to Willow Spring?” No one steps forward or raises their hand. Dean looks the crew in the eye, one by one, trying to unravel them and detect even the slightest hint of doubt. His gaze lingers on Y/N, who doesn’t give him an inch and seems determined. He nods, his mind made up. “Alright, then,” he decides. “We ride north.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part thirteen here

202 notes · View notes

shimmersing · 5 years ago

Link

Chapter Two: Hope

“You’ll join us in celebrating, of course?” The Duke spread his arms in welcome. “The children will so much want to speak with you, and I’m certain you have many tales of Jedi courage to share. And your crew as well!”

Standing next to Duke Charle Organa on a palace balcony, Jedi Consular Aitahea Daviin finally relaxed enough to let go of the sigh it seemed like she’d been holding in for months. The Force plague had kept her on Tattooine for so long she’d thought she could never bear sunlight again, but the familiar comfort of the alpine breeze and docile morning light was a soothing change from Tattooine’s punishing binary system.

Despite her sunburned cheeks, Aitahea’s eyes sported sunken shadows, her already delicate features too hollow. Her crew had doubled since leaving Coruscant; Tharan Cedrax and his assistant, Holiday, had decided to join Aitahea and Qyzen on the Luminous after their work on Nar Shadda had been completed. Adjusting to new allies and personalities was taking time, as expected, but Aitahea found herself appreciating the quiet busyness on board. It distracted from the worry and strain of their mission, a burden the consular stubbornly refused to share. Locating Master Sidonie on Alderaan should mean the end of this particular search.

The consular prided herself on entering every situation with the best intentions. What she returned with each time was something a little different; with each healing, each new link to Vivicar, another barbed hook anchored in her spirit. Just a little more.

Returning to Alderaan should have been a welcome respite, but with Vivicar’s Force plague intensifying across the galaxy, she had no time to rest. The Council was counting on her established connections with House Organa, but the nobility was not all-powerful. Her contacts were sending messages and holos in circles, leading Aitahea on a wild bantha chase instead of taking her directly to the at-risk Master Sidonie. It would be nearly a day before she could even meet her first contact.

Perhaps she should take a few hours for dinner after all.

“Thank you. I’m honored to be welcome at your table, Your Grace.”

The Duke smiled magnanimously at Aitahea, who suddenly felt a very great deal younger than she had a moment ago. “Good. We'll eat and drink and strategize and show the world we still have hope.”

Aitahea nodded wistfully. Hope.

As a youngling, coming to Alderaan after the chaos of the Sacking of Coruscant had been a privilege and a blessing. Her time here as an initiate had been filled not only with growth and change, but also a substantial and comforting structure that Aitahea had excelled within. The alpine valleys had swiftly earned her affection in place of the urban landscape of Coruscant, and she had felt welcomed and cherished in House Organa.

The formality of the royal houses, the pomp and circumstance of court, and the composed, powerful women of Alderaan had inspired Aitahea so much that she’d begun wearing her hair in the same manner, braids wound into a bright but less elaborate coronet. The struggle of maintaining both public and private lives in the face of Alderaan’s seemingly endless brawl for rule had seemed a magical dance that they completed with admirable grace, and Aitahea had watched them eagerly, nurturing a love for peaceful diplomacy.

She’d found a strangely familiar family in the Duke and Duchess, as well as in their children. The handful of other Jedi younglings that she’d joined in the enclave had welcomed and accepted her, but they had never quite become the family that her first clan had been. Nor her biological family, still residing on Coruscant. With the vastness of space now between them instead of just a quick speeder ride, her unique attachment to her parents and younger sister had languished.

She had also loved the stolen moments of silliness that had let her feel like an ordinary child, without the looming responsibilities of a swiftly growing initiate, without the memories of terror and fear that no child should have. The time she and the other younglings of the Jedi Enclave had snuck into a private revel and filched several bottles of wine that none of them had been brave enough to taste. Even her first kiss, hiding in an alcove during the very same thievery incident, in these very halls.

Lost in thought, Aitahea startled a little when the Duke tucked a few loose strands of hair back behind her ear, the motion gentle and paternal. “Child, what troubles you?”

The Duke’s concern enveloped her, even without the use of her empathic senses. She blinked back a sudden stinging in her eyes. “So many things, Your Grace, I scarcely know where I would even begin.” She turned, offering a sentimental smile. “But at the moment I was only recalling the fond memories I made here.”

“You are always welcome on–”

Aitahea turned as the sound of rapid footfalls came into hearing, alerted by the sudden urgent presence. Haley Organa, barely more than a boy when Aitahea had left for Tython, sprinted down the hallway to where Duke Organa and the Jedi stood. He slowed, taking a few deep breaths before speaking, brow creasing a little when he caught sight of Aitahea’s face.

“My lord? There's a call coming in on your secure channel.”

“Thank you, Haley.” He shifted slightly to include the now wholly composed Jedi. “You may remember Aitahea Daviin, now a full Jedi of the Order, formerly a member of our own enclave.”

Recognition flickered in the younger man’s eyes, followed by an efficient bow. “Master Jedi, welcome back to Alderaan.”

“Pleased to see you again, Haley. Let’s not delay.” Aitahea wondered as they turned to follow Haley if the command room was where she remembered.

As they walked, Duke Organa provided Aitahea with some of the more sensitive details about the strife between the noble houses, how the aggressions had accelerated in recent days, even prompting the involvement of the Republic military in an official capacity. The escalations hadn’t escaped Aitahea’s notice even while she continued on her own missions; Erithon’s messages had kept her apprised of information she might not otherwise have been party to.

Neither of them had been foolish enough to risk sensitive data in their communications, but Aitahea had a reasonable amount of faith that the Jedi Order’s slicers could keep her missives secure, and either way it was him. She’d been more disappointed than she would admit when they kept missing key starports by days, even hours once, ships literally passing in the unreal night of hyperspace. What she found herself most irked with at the moment was an unviewed holo practically burning a hole in her comm, but Aitahea hadn’t had a moment to herself since they’d arrived. It would be nice to hear his voice. To be fair she’d sneaked a peek at his service record just once a few weeks ago, curious when his birthdate was, purely for debriefing reasons and she hadn’t known his service holo was included in the file so that had been a nice surprise…

Haley was ushering them into the command room when Duke Organa paused to gaze closely at Aitahea, who found herself with her hands at her temples, disoriented. “Master Jedi? Aitahea?”

“Oh,” she gasped, lashes fluttering. “Forgive me, it’s nothing.” The Jedi shook her head, refocusing – if only there had been time for a moment of rest.

The Duke pressed a hand under Aitahea’s elbow, regret creasing his brow as he led her into the room. “I’m sorry that this will likely add to your burden. Introductions proper will have to wait. Master Aitahea; General Kashim.”

Aitahea nodded to the Mon Cal. “General, may the Force be with us.”

“Indeed,” he replied before turning back to the Duke. “Your Grace, by your leave.”

Charle Organa narrowed his eyes as the holocamera whirred. “Put it through, General.”

Aitahea found her fingers brushing against her lightsaber hilt and quickly clasped her hands at her waist, pulling in a steadying breath.

The holo flickered to life; the being’s size ridiculously exaggerated, it dominated the holotable, wildly disproportionate to the beings in the room. A human smirked down at the Duke and his advisors, a misplaced and blustering bravado coating his words. He spoke; “It's been a long time, my lord Duke. Who is your friend?”

Organa waved his hand impatiently. “If she should wish to speak to the Wolf Baron of House Thul, she’ll do so herself.” The Duke tilted his head and the holocamera swiveled.

Aitahea took a step forward, her demeanor vulnerable and gently diplomatic as she opened her hands beseechingly. “Baron Thul, my name is Aitahea Daviin, a Jedi Consular and friend to House Organa. Your Lordship, I’m told you ordered the land bombed and the turrets captured.”

Thul sneered, tossing his head back, but his gaze was still calculating. He answered leisurely. “I did, yes. Your Republic friends may have retaken the Spears of Organa, but they served my purpose – scattering your people and sending them straight into my hands.”

Aitahea struggled to hide a sharp swell of apprehension; she knew Organa had involved some military resources in returning the Spears into the right hands, yet this was the first mention from someone other than Organa himself. This in addition to the wild rumors of Sith on the ground in the highlands. It seemed like madness.

Organa drew himself up and glared at the holocamera. “What are you saying, Baron?”

The Wolf Baron scowled impatiently. “I’m saying that House Thul has taken three hundred Organa citizens captive.” The man’s lips twisted viciously as he savored their shock. “I thought you’d want to know.”

The Duke reeled back a step, and General Kashim gripped the edge of the holoprojector. After a breath, Aitahea lifted her eyes to the hologram again, her words low and measured. “Make your demands, Your Lordship. We’re listening.”

“Talk, Baron, before my patience runs out!” Organa snapped furiously. Aitahea remained still as a frozen pond, attention fixed on the holo while she flooded the Force around them with subtle patience.

Thul took his time smoothing his hands over his tunic before peevishly clearing his throat, all while Organa fumed and the Jedi waited with seemingly boundless tranquility. “I’d like to meet in person to civilly discuss the fate of my prisoners.” Organa bit back a snarl, while Aitahea stiffened at the words ‘my prisoners’. “I’m sending a time and coordinates now.

“In the meantime, your people will be treated well.” The Baron leaned back, hooking his thumbs into his belt as though he’d just pronounced some magnanimous gift, but a vicious glint remained in his eyes. “The incident with your son-in-law will not be repeated.”

The line went dead.

Aitahea’s practiced façade faltered as she tried to unravel the Baron’s final words. “With your… Your Grace, what does he mean?”

Organa stared at his clenched fist, unhearing. “Damn him! Damn his eyes!”

Kashim folded his arms. “I suggest you remain calm. This is the Wolf Baron’s trap.”

Organa rounded on his general, venting his frustration. “I’m not a fool! But a ruler who can’t protect his people is no ruler at all.” The Duke shook his head, squared his shoulders and inhaled deeply. Aitahea felt a twinge of irritation; the influences she had attempted to weave into the pattern of the Force were fading all too rapidly under Organa’s emotive tirade. “I have to go.”

“No, Your Grace.” Aitahea lifted her chin, an elegant motion filled with quiet confidence. “Allow me to handle the Wolf Baron.”

Organa turned to the Jedi, worry clear in his eyes. “My dear, I cannot place you at risk.”

“Your Grace, before I ever stepped foot on Tython, my training here prepared me for ordeals just like this. Your household equipped me for this very moment. The very least I can do is protect the house that so generously sheltered me when I was young.”

The Duke’s face softened. “My dear Aitahea – Master Aitahea – you are among Alderaan’s bravest daughters, and our best hope. You will not go alone.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. We will rescue your people. The Force is with us.”

“Lead the way, and I will follow. Sweep aside the Wolf Baron’s Black Guard, his assassins. He wants to meet? Let us meet on even terms.”

Kashim nodded severely. “House Thul will be massing its forces. I will prepare our troops while you confront the Wolf Baron.”

“Thank you, General. And Aitahea, I wish this were under better circumstances, but…” The duke straightened proudly and gave her a level stare. “I pronounce you a paladin of House Organa, my beacon in the dark.”

Aitahea felt something flutter in her chest and pursed her lips at the phrase before nodding her acceptance. “It is an honor, Your Grace.” Swept up in the solemnity of the moment, she dropped into a low curtsey, more elaborate and demonstrative than her usual motion of hand to heart, drawn directly from the customs of the court.

“Master Jedi.” Organa leaned forward to take Aitahea’s trembling hands and drew her back to her feet with an encouraging smile. “It is your valor I salute. Your word I believe. Clear the path, my friend, and let us look evil in the eye.”

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #star wars the old republic #jedi consular #republic trooper #alderaan #oc/oc #fluffy #awww they're precious #oc: aitahea daviin #oc: erithon zale #erithon/aitahea #ao3

16 notes · View notes

airadam · 5 years ago

Text

Episode 126 : None More Black

"These evil streets don't sleep..."

- Pharoahe

Here's an idea I've been holding for a while - an episode showcasing Hip-Hop tracks that took a rock sample or influence! I thought it'd be an interesting one to select and mix without reaching for the most obvious standby picks, and we've got tracks spanning almost thirty years at the extreme ends. Don't worry, the guitars come along with plenty of bars and beats!

Links for the month... Michelle Grace Hunder - wicked music photographer!

The Flyest Xmas party on Dec 20th, featuring The Soul Twins

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Ice-T ft. Jello Biafra : Shut Up, Be Happy

One of those tracks that seems more relevant now than ever, this was the opener on Ice-T's underrated 1989 album "The Iceberg". A great marrying of elements, as Jello Biafra of the punk band Dead Kennedys delivers a totalitarian announcement (based on his own "Message From Our Sponsor" over a Black Sabbath loop. I couldn't put this anywhere but as the intro to the episode!

Camp Lo : 82 Afros

Kicking the pace up a touch, we move straight into a killer Camp Lo cut from the "Black Hollywood" LP, with Ski cooking up a banging rock-based beat. The kick and snare are straight boom-bap, but the toms add an unexpected extra element on top of the distorted guitar and vocal sample. Cheeba and Geechi might be known for their smooth styles, but this is just one demonstration of the fact that they can get busy over any kind of beat.

J-Zone : Moonwalk / Gel N' Weave Remix (Instrumental)

I was struggling to find just the right instrumental for this spot, but went back to "The Headband Years" to find this beat from a producer who could make a beat our of almost anything. He's full-time on his funk drumming now, but has a great catalogue of Hip-Hop that can't be fronted on.

Kobaine : Ko.Bain

This is an artist I know very little about, as as far as I'm aware this is his only release to date, a nice little contribution to the 2002 "Subway Series Vol.1" compilation on Major League Entertainment. I got this on digital release which had no credits included, so I'm not sure who produced it - I can imagine it being a Nick Wiz or Tribeca track though.

Agallah : Ag Season

Brownsville's Agallah has often channelled the rockstar vibes in his career, and this woozy-guitared track from "Bo : The Legend of the Water Dragon" sounds entirely natural for him. Self-produced as always, it's short, rock solid, and to the point.

Fabolous : Breathe

Fifteen years old, already? This was a huge single for Fabolous, taken from his "Real Talk" album, and is one of his best-known tracks even after all these years. Just Blaze laced him with a beat based around Supertramp's "Crime of the Century", and got a surprise when Fab told him he'd written his lyrics around the "breathe" vocal sample on the track...because that's not what it said! However, on hearing the bars, Just went back and made some changes to align the audio with what Fab thought he heard!

Ras Kass ft. Killah Priest : Milli Vanilli

Ras Kass' "Quarterly" was collection of tracks he released once a week, finally brought together in late 2009 - and there are some great cuts in there. Here's one, with Veterano's beat sounding like a cybernetic heavy metal group trying to destroy the speaker stack! Ras cuts through it regardless, and special guest Killah Priest (fellow member of THE HRSMN) matches him bar for bar as always. The hook of course channels the then-recent Lil Wayne track "A Milli", which was a heavily-used beat for freestyles around this time.

Body Count : C-Note

This was one of the shorter and gentler tracks on the debut Body Count album, but was always one of my favourites - Ernie C makes that guitar cry for real. Ice-T's metal project was waved off by some doubters in the beginning, but the music was solid from their first appearance on the "OG: Original Gangster" album and they're still killing it to this day.

Bumpy Knuckles : Swazzee

This one is so aggro, you have to love it. Seriously, you'd better. Bumpy Knuckles is in fine form on this guaranteed weight-training motivational track from "Konexion", taking out sucker MCs, snitches, haters, and pretty much everyone else. The hook is reminiscent of an old Sly Stone cut, and Knockout's beat is ferocious - precise, measured drums with the harsh guitar over the top. Bumpy might be the king of the third verse but a track like this lets you know he can handle the first two just fine!

Public Enemy : Go Cat Go

The "He Got Game" soundtrack was unfairly overlooked by too many heads, but is an absolutely worthy entry in Public Enemy's long and storied discography. Chuck D's political awareness and love of sports (he actually wanted to be a sportscaster at one point) combined for a really interesting listen. Jack Dangers of Meat Beat Manifesto and Danny Saber of Black Grape cover this one in heavy guitars which would drown out most MCs, but not Chuck! As the album subtitle says, this one is about the game behind the game...

Boogie Down Productions : Ya Slippin

It's hard to think now of BDP being a crew with a future in doubt, but this is how it was back in 1988 as "By All Means Necessary" was released, not long after the murder of founding DJ Scott La Rock. KRS might be young here but he rhymes with the confidence of someone who left home as a child to become an MC, survived homelessness, and achieved his goal. He scolds weak MCs like "The Teacha" he is, and gets down on the production too - the rock heads will recognise this guitar sample a mile off!

Pharoahe Monch : Got You

Shout out to Vicky T for reminding me of this tune! The lead single from the "Training Day" soundtrack is one where I think the radio version (as heard here) surpasses the original. Monch perfectly encapsulates the essence of Denzel Washington's character, who is one of the classic movie villains of modern times - and strikingly, is based on real police.

[J-Zone] Boss Hog Barbarians : Celph Destruction (Instrumental)

Zone again, and while it one didn't come to mind immediately, the aggressive sonics of this instrumental get it the nod here. The Boss Hog Barbarians (J-Zone and Celph Titled) album is an absolute tribute to ignorance (intentionally), but if you can deal with that then it's an excellent addition to your collection.

LL Cool J : Go Cut Creator Go

Another 80s classic hard rocking track, from LL's "Bigger And Deffer" album. It's the kind of track we don't get now - the MC just bigging up the DJ. DJ Cut Creator was with LL from the very beginning, and was the one who actually helped him to get him name known, so it's nice to hear the appreciation. The scratches still stand up today and cut through even the loudest of the guitar samples on the track!

Sly Boogy : Fatal Mistake

Sly may not have put anything out for a while, but the San Bernadino native did drop a few nice tracks in the early 2000s. This one has him totally disregarding the common standards of Hip-Hop song structure, opening up with a thirty-two bar first verse just to show he's not playing. DJ Revolution provides the cuts, and production is courtesy of a then-emerging Jake One. This actually doesn't have a rock influence, but is here because of how well it goes with the next instrumental...

[Rick Rubin] Jay-Z : 99 Problems (Instrumental)

The combination of this and "Fatal Mistake" is one I discovered while doing a mix years and years ago, and wanted to bring out again when the opportunity arose! You probably all know the vocal version of this track, which appeared on Jay-Z's "The Black Album". While working with the legendary Def Jam co-founder and producer Rubin, Jay said he wanted something like the flavour he used to give to the Beastie Boys and this was the result - a meshing of several ideas that came together perfectly.

Public Enemy : She Watch Channel Zero?!

Let's be real - the sexism is heavy on this track! It'd be entirely reasonable to argue that spending all day watching sports on TV isn't any better than soap operas, but that's just my opinion :) 1988's "...Nation of Millions..." yields this song which had an interesting connection - sampling the group Slayer, who were produced by Def Jam founder and major PE supporter Rick Rubin.

Lacuna Coil : The Game

Going pure rock on this selection from this veteran Milanese gothic metal band! I actually learned about this group from "Guitar Hero" of all places, and "Our Truth" led me to the 2006 "Karmacode" album that included this track. It always reminded me a little of "Channel Zero", and while the guitar riffs are definitely fire and the drums bang, it's the combined and contrasting vocals of Cristina Scabbia and Andrea Ferro that can't fail to grab your ear.

RJD2 : Exotic Talk

Prog rock meets Hip-Hop sensibilities as RJD2 twists and turns, chilling things out in parts before bringing the thunder crashing back in. Definite standout from 2004's "Since We Last Spoke".

Z-Trip : Rockstar

We close with a standout track from the "Return of the DJ, Volume II" compilation, with Phoenix's Z-Trip putting together a masterpiece of DJ/producer song construction. The sample list is long, and since I don't know what was and wasn't cleared, I won't give anything away here!

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

0 notes