Firstborn of the Frontier

The Firstborn was nothing like what Noora expected.

Didn’t look like much, not with his big hat and bigger grin, both of which made him look younger than his years. Add in the shiny silver emblem on the front of his hat, and the pretty, expensive guns he kept on his belt, and she wrote him off as scav bait with little more than a glance. That was her impression of him from only a few weeks ago, when she spotted him handing out mail in front of the saloon, and it only got worse the more she heard. A Qin kid out of New Hope with papers marked by the Marshal, that was the story going round town, one who was giving out free candies and a Cantrip. Out of a giant armoured tank with a huge gun mounted up top, pulled by a Magical Beast no less, but that’d only made him a more tempting target. Yea, if the company didn’t rob him blind, the scavs would pick him clean as soon as he rode out the gates, then send him on his way with little more than the clothes on his back and a waterskin to see him clear of the sand.

A regular postal worker with a horse and cart? The scavs and company would leave him alone, because fucking with the Feds wasn’t worth the heat. The Firstborn though, him and his wagon represented a fortune to be earned by the first man who dared to rob him, and there weren’t many fortunes to be found out there on the Coral sands. So she wrote him off as too stupid to know better, copied down his Cantrip, and helped herself to a handful of hard candies without giving him another thought. Could’ve warned him off, but he was too deep in it to escape, and she wasn’t about to stick her neck out to help him. Besides, chances were the scavs would let him live on account of the Postal Services, since even they weren’t dumb enough to fuck with the Feds like that, not outright at least. No harm, no foul, and more importantly, no skin off her back, because it wasn’t like she could help him even if she wanted to, right?

A fact made all the more apparent when Tony grabbed her off the street and all but dragged her away into the Sherrif’s office. She didn’t fight him, because she knew there wasn’t any point. Tried to smile and sweet talk the surly deputy so he’d play nice, but it didn’t take. Not with him or any of the others, and certainly not with Sherrif Gil. They were all worked up about their names being up on the mailing list, because there shouldn’t have been anyone outside of town who knew they were here. Learning the Sherrif and his deputies all had bounties on their heads didn’t come as any surprise, though now that Noora knew, she set her mind to scrimping, saving, and stealing every last penny she could get her hands on in order to get a letter out to alert the authorities.

That afternoon’s torment only cemented the idea in her head. Mark, Andre, Tony, Terry, and Sherrif Gil weren’t the first men to ever lay hands on her, but they were easily the worst, and the fear of seeing their full names on public display brought out the worst in them. They didn’t like feeling scared, so they hurt her so they could pretend to be big and strong again. Felt like forever before they let her go, and as she walked out the office, she had to work real hard not to glare at the Firstborn as he passed her by. Wasn’t really his fault really, but wasn’t Noora’s either, and she couldn’t well blame the Sherrif or the deputies now, could she? They’d sense her resentment, and either make her pay for it, or enjoy it so much they’d hurt her more for laughs.

When the shooting started, she didn’t turn around to look, or at least she didn’t right off the bat. She put her head down and ran for cover to wait for it all to blow over. Then the shooting kept going, one thunder clap after another for long seconds when it should’ve been over in one. When she finally found the courage to take a look, she was just in time to see the Firstborn’s big white bull crash through the front door with a bellowing battle cry. Usually, this was her cue to get lost, because there was nothing to be gained from sticking around any longer, but she couldn’t bring herself to just leave. That was a lot of Bolts, but none fired after the big white bull went in, so maybe, just maybe Sherrif Gil and his boys were all dead. Wouldn’t that be something? So instead, she moved over into a nice, secluded alley, not directly across from the Sherrif’s office but close enough for an unobstructed view, and settled in to watch the show.

Wasn’t much to see really. The street cleared up quick, followed by long minutes of silence before the guards arrived to cordon off the office. Town guards, not Vanguard National heavies, who couldn’t be bothered standing watch or doing any real work around these parts. They looked real nervous, trading looks like didn’t any one of them want to be there, but they didn’t have any other choice. Then Mr. Jackson showed up, looking as fancy as ever with his silver cuff links and neat necktie as he strode across the sands, taking charge with little more than a few words. The guards, they all stood outside the Sherrif’s office, well away from the door and sheltered behind cover, but Mr. Jackson marched right up to the door and knocked like he was paying a visit. Stepped inside soon after, and didn’t stay there for long, coming out with the Firstborn hot on his heels looking none the worse for wear. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a hole in his jacket around the shoulder, and fresh, bloodied bandages showing underneath, but he was still sporting the same smile he’d been wearing all afternoon, while his bull look freshly washed and all out of sorts as he glared at the crowd in warning.

Then without so much as another word, the Firstborn hitched his bull to his wagon and high-tailed it out of town, leaving five dead bodies, a shaken-up Vicente, and Noora a free woman behind him.

For a day or two after he left at least, and during that time, Noora dreamt of what might have been if she had courage enough to flag her hero down and ask for a ride out of town. She figured it would’ve led to a quick and easy death out in the desert at best, since there was no way Mr. Jackson was gonna let some punk kid shoot up his Sherrif and get away clean. Still, if he could survive a shoot-out with Sherrif Gil and his deputies, then maybe the Firstborn could handle himself in a real fight. Might even have survived long enough to bring her out of the Coral Desert to the lush forests and grasslands beyond, places she’d only ever heard of and never seen for herself. Fields of white vegetation as far as the eye could see, or tall, towering trees that stretched up until they were almost touching the sky before blossoming like gigantic flowers with hundreds or even thousands of petals each. Maybe she’d even see an ocean, a pool of water so wide you could stand on one edge and see nothing but water out over the horizon, and so deep you’d run out of air before your feet found the bottom. Had to build a ship to travel across it, not that you’d ever find her on one, because as cool as it would be to have an endless supply of water, you couldn’t pay her enough to go floating out over it on a hollowed-out piece of wood.

Those dreams didn’t last long of course, no more than any other dreams Noora had ever had. Reality wouldn’t allow it, because three days after the Sheriff died, Tommy Benson got 86’d from the saloon and figured Noora would make for a free and easy ride now that she didn’t have a keeper. That’s when she decided she might as well start working for herself, though miss Laura took some convincing. Wasn’t a bad gig all things considered, as the work itself wasn’t anything new, but it meant Noora got to sleep indoors for a few hours every night after the evening rush died down. On top of being paid too, though it wasn’t much after the house’s cut. She ate better too, as the girls had to look good after all, and they even got a cheaper price on cigarettes laced with something or the other to help them take the edge off. Not that she really needed it, as most her clients were a nicer sort, or at least nicer than Sherrif Gil. Not a high bar to be fair, but the clients who got too rough were tossed out on their asses. Some were even outright kind and gentle, holding her close and kissing her softly like they were real lovers. While she didn’t enjoy it as much as they did, it was a whole lot better than what she was used to.

Had plenty of free time too, which she put to good use learning the Water Sphere Cantrip the Firstborn left behind and watching Mr. Jackson set the town into high gear. Everyone was working extra shifts down in the mines, and there was plenty to be done on the home front putting up shade, tidying things up, and shoring up defenses. Members of Vanguard National started trickling in too, heavily armed thugs who ‘kept the peace’ in and around Pleasant Dunes, which meant more work for Noora and the rest of the working girls to keep up. No one knew what was going on, or those who did weren’t saying shit, but everyone could tell something was going down, something big, and she didn’t want any part of it. All the bustle reminded her of the early years here in town, when raiders, scavengers and Abby alike all saw Pleasant Dunes as an easy mark and everyone had to fight to survive.

Or not, as it were. That’s how Papa died after all, taking a Bolt through the chest in the opening minutes of one such attack. Body wasn’t even in the ground yet when then the debtors came for Mama and Noora, saying Papa had put them both down as collateral for a loan he used to buy gear to work up in the mines. Said the family would have to pay one way or another, and they’d be back the next day collect. Mama buried Papa, crying the whole while, then mixed something into her waterskin and told Noora everything would be fine so long as she drank good and deep. She did, even though it was bitter as all hell, then Mama drank the rest. A few minutes later, Noora threw up, but Mama didn’t and died, leaving Noora saddled with the entire debt.

That was four years ago, and she’d been traded several times since, and she imagined the original debt had long since been paid off. Never knew how much Papa had borrowed, but it wasn’t like it’d change anything. Telling a man like Sherrif Gil you wanted to leave would only make him hurt you more, because he liked it when you put up a fight. So she stopped fighting for the most part, and they didn’t hurt her as much, but they didn’t let her go either. Other than that, things weren’t so bad by then, as the walls had gone up and the big gatling guns put in place. Made it so Abby didn’t want to come take them on, not more than once a year at least, and Mr. Jackson even worked things out with the local scav boss, meaning Pleasant Dunes was safer than ever. Course miners still died down in the tunnels from cave ins and Abby attacks, and they had the odd barroom brawl every now and then, ones that usually weren’t too bad until Sherrif Gil and his pack of sadists showed up to ‘keep the peace’.

Least if they spilled blood out in the streets, they were less likely to hurt her bad the same night. Thankfully, they were all dead now thanks to the Firstborn and that life was behind her, but she couldn’t count on him to save her again from what looked like was going to be yet another Abby attack on Pleasant Dunes, even though the last one was only four- or five-months ago. It never stops, not here on the Frontier, and Noora had long since come to terms with that fact. She also accepted the fact that there was nothing she could do about it, as there wasn’t anyone in town who’d give her a gun or teach her how to use it. All she could do was keep her head down and deal with things one day at a time. If the walls held, then great. If not, then she’d have to figure something out for herself, or die trying.

Then again, maybe she could count on her hero, who came riding into town as bold as can be a few weeks later, with twenty-eight American Rangers at his back no less. Had thirty-one Patches too, young blood looking to earn their colours, and they looked a lot more impressive than the Vanguard National equivalents. Had their matching beige uniforms all starched and fully buttoned up, with shirttails tucked into their matching jeans and dark black boots polished so bright they all but sparkled in the sunlight. Was a bit much if you asked her, but it made them look more dashing and competent she supposed. Their first day here, they dug out a good section of wide trench around the city walls working from noon to dusk, and only took breaks to practice with their fancy big guns that looked a lot more impressive than the gats. Noora didn’t see much of them, other than a couple glimpses out the second story window, but nothing much of anything changed at all. Night fell and the day shift trundled back in, meaning it was time to get back to work again. Wasn’t nothing else she could do, because regardless of what fate awaited the people Pleasant Dunes, she’d live or die on the whims of others just like always.

With the Rangers’ arrival, the mood in town was one of nervous energy, as they weren’t sure whether to be happy for the help or worried it was even needed. Mr. Jackson only called in half as many members of Vanguard National to help defend against the last Abby attack, and now he was calling on the Feds too? Meant a big storm was coming, a skin-scouring sirocco that’d rip all those new cloth awnings they’d only just put in place, which in turn meant a lot of clients coming in to work off their nerves. Noora didn’t get her few hours of sleep that night, working from sundown to sunup as she did, and she could barely keep her head upright as she traipsed down the stairs for a quick bite.

Only to freeze in her tracks when she spotted her hero taking in the sights.

The Firstborn looked exactly how she remembered him, right down to his big hat and duster, though he was armoured up this time around and wore a strained smile on his face. Asked if she worked here, and her heart skipped a beat, because much as she love the chance to thank him for what he’d done, she was in no state to service a man like him. She wanted to be clean for him, or clean as could be, not sweaty and disgusting after a full night’s work. Tried her best to let him down gentle and keep him interested, but he flinched when she reached out to stroke his cheek, which told her she’d read him all wrong. Wasn’t here for company then, and his next question cemented that theory, because who comes into a whorehouse asking after the clientele? Course, miss Laura drilled it into Noora’s head early on that the girls were never to talk about their johns in public, so she made like she misunderstood the question and made a quick getaway, because that’s what she always did when trouble came around, and the Firstborn was most certainly trouble. Not quick enough though, as he stopped her to ask which room, and there was something in his tone which chilled her down to the core. Such an innocent question, but the way he said it was no different from how Sherrif Gil used to ask which one of his ‘tools’ she’d like him to hurt her with. Took Noora right out of the moment and threw her back into the past, and by the time she clawed her way back to the present, the Firstborn was on his way up the stairs with murder in his eyes.

Yea, he wasn’t here to save anyone in Pleasant Dunes. Was her mistake, not his, because he never claimed to be a hero, nor did his actions ever paint him as one. No, he was a killer through and through, the same as most men she knew, with the only difference being his age.

But she owed him one for ridding her of Sherrif Gil and his sadists, so she couldn’t just stand there and watch him march to his death. Especially since Kevin the bartender saw their little talk, meaning the blame would fall on her after all was said and done. That’s why she talked the Firstborn down from shooting the saloon up and got him into a room to avoid suspicion, but once they were there, he had no interest in doing anything besides looming at the door like shadow of death. He was a man with a gun looking for an excuse to use it, and she couldn’t have that. Not while she was in the room with him at least, so she tried to give him an outlet for all his rage. Pushed his buttons on purpose knowing good and well it’d get her hurt, but to her surprise, he didn’t rise to the bait. Didn’t accept her open invitation neither, and she thought it was because he was one of them prudish types. Would explain why he flinched away from her touch and held himself so stiff while she was pressed up against him, like he wanted to push her back but thought it’d be impolite to do so. Didn’t matter what he said, because men were all liars anyways. No, it was about what he did, and his actions said he didn’t want nothing to do with Noora, not in the way she hoped.

A real puzzle is what he was, a picture so similar to what she knew and yet so different at the same time. Like most men, he was a whirlwind of rage and violence just simmering beneath the surface, a killer through and through, and yet there were aspects of him that didn’t fit the mould in ways she couldn’t understand. He wasn’t bad looking either, not exactly the handsome prince of anyone’s dreams with his squinty eyes and strained smile, but far from ugly, especially when he flashed his wry little half-smile that didn’t show any of his teeth. Downright adorable when he blushed too, and she couldn’t help but tease him more than she usually would. Wanted to see that look of lust in his eyes, but he kept his gaze fixed on her eyes, one so soft yet piercing at the same time. Was a look she’d never seen before, one that made her want him for her own, and not just to pay him back, though in her books, they were even now.

In the end, nothing happened as they played cat’s cradle while she dreamed of what could be, but nice as dreams are, they never worked out like you’d hope, because life always found a way to bring you back down to reality.

So instead of putting any stock into what he said, she resolved to find out who he really was through action, which meant she had to make sure he came back for another visit. That’s why she staked her claim on him in front of the trio of gorgeous Ranger girls who came looking for him, and when she saw he was more amused than angry, she stole his wad of cash too. The only thing men wanted more than what they couldn’t have was something they’d already paid for. Problem was, she panicked when she saw how much cash the Firstborn kept on him. She’d figured the wad for mostly ones, which would still be a lot of money, but they were all fives and a sum well worth killing for. So she kept an extra ten and asked miss Laura to give the rest back to the Firstborn, making some excuse about how he left it on the bedside table that neither of them bought. Noora figured it was no big deal, as stealing from the clients happened more often than not, but she knew she’d made a big mistake when miss Laura came back all heated and gave her a glare in passing, one that promised hell to pay if she messed up again.

Couldn’t lose this job, even if she had options now, because a lot could happen between now and tomorrow. This was the safest she’d been in years, safer than even before her parents died and left her saddled with debt, so she wasn’t willing to risk getting tossed out into the streets, where any man could take her and there was nothing she could do about it. Miss Laura could make it happen with a snap of her fingers, so Noora couldn’t risk slacking off like she’d planned. Wanted to stay fresh and clean for the Firstborn until he showed up again, but no chance of that happening now. Instead, she ate and slept as little as she could before jumping right back into work to show miss Laura she could be a good earner just like she promised.

Which ended up getting her 86ed from the saloon anyways after she lost track of time and failed to spot the Firstborn sitting pretty on the barroom floor. Had a client with her already, which sparked off a whole powder keg of violence which didn’t explode like she’d expected. Instead, it put her on a new and unwelcome path she wasn’t ready for. Wasn’t fair as none of this was her fault, but it was how things panned out, and to her surprise, camping out with the Rangers wasn’t half as bad as she expected. The Firstborn set her up inside his wagon, which had all sorts of hidden compartments that were all locked up tight. Not with any key, but with magical locks it seemed, because the Firstborn could open them all with a touch, but Noora couldn’t even find a seam to wedge her nails into. Still, the wagon was airy, comfortable, and sheltered, which was more than she was used to, and more than that, it was all hers for the night. During the day, she stuck close to Sarah Jay and did odd jobs around camp like laundry and packing magazines, but no one came looking for favours or expecting payback for meals, clothes, or rent. Come evening, she’d sit and chat with the Firstborn’s crew, and then she’d go back to her little space in the wagon and sleep the night away.

Then Abby came crawling out of the desert and mountains, and Cowie trundled off with the wagon leaving Noora nowhere to hide. Had no choice but to stick close to Sarah Jay, who refused to sit tight and hobbled off to the walls with rifle in hand in spite of her bum knee. Now there was a woman with more spunk than sense, a defect Noora thought only afflicted men, but there was no stopping the ice queen from the task at hand. The tall, dark brunette had come all the way from New Hope to kill Abby, and that’s what she meant to do, so Noora followed along and hoped it wouldn’t get her killed. Almost did, but credit where it’s due, Sarah Jay did her best to protect Noora, and it opened up a whole new set of delusions to dream about. Far as she could tell, the Rangers were taking on anyone who turned sixteen this year, meaning she could sign on for Basic too. Now wouldn’t that be a sight, Noora Amari, American Ranger, kicking ass and taking names on behalf of the United Federation of American States. Neither of her parents were American, which could be a problem, but no sense sweating about details until they became relevant. The important thing was that she had options like the Firstborn said, opportunities where before there was only one.

Except much like a promise, an opportunity was nothing more than words lost to the breeze. Didn’t matter what anyone said; what she had was all that mattered, and until she was in New Hope in a fresh Ranger uniform, Basic was just another idle fantasy, one that would likely never come true. Even if the Firstborn meant every word he said, the chances of the Ranger convoy making it out of the Coral Desert alive were slim to none. Their guns alone would elevate Vanguard National into the strongest gang around, not to mention the treasure trove of Aberrtin and Spell Cores they’d collect along the way. If Mr. Jackson didn’t kill them for it, then the local scavs would, and if they didn’t get the job done, then someone else would come and finish the job.

Stupid is what it was, coming to help Pleasant Dunes like this, but what was even stupider? Despite knowing how the odds were stacked against them, Noora still wanted to leave with the Firstborn and the Rangers in the hopes that they’d make it out of the desert alive and bring her to a new and wonderful life.

But dreams were one thing, and reality another, so she would cling to the first while doing everything to survive in the second. You did what you had to, so when she finally saw a chance to talk to the Firstborn alone, she jumped on it like a girl who’d been out of work for ages. It was so strange seeing him so down in the dumps, when only a few hours ago, he’d been the man of the hour in camp, with all the other boots just gushing with praise about how he’d done this or that during the big fight. Even stranger was seeing him cuddling his giant white bull, who’d shrunk down to a calf and was curled up in the Firstborn’s arm like a big, furry baby. They both looked so innocent and adorable, which only went to show how appearances could be deceiving, as she knew firsthand that they were both hardened killers well accustomed to a life of violence and bloodshed.

And she also knew how to best approach them. That is to say don’t. Let them make the approach, because half the fun was in the thrill of the hunt. So she said her piece about recognizing his pain like she was supposed to, and to her surprise, she even meant it. The Firstborn was an angry and violent killer, but he wasn’t born that way. Was shaped to this life, the way Noora had been shaped to hers, so maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for her to become a little less like her, and a lot more like him. Took everything she had not to press him for more, to turn her back to him and cling loosely to the arm he left draped around her.

Was a novel sensation, being hugged like this. Didn’t pull her in too close or hold her too tight, just wrapped her in his arm and left it there like a loose blanket. Kept his hand on her shoulder and didn’t try to cop a feel, but he did hold onto her hand, clinging ever so softly to her fingers with his as if worried he might hurt her. Didn’t say much either, but he stopped leaning away enough to let her snuggle up against him, and even pressed his cheek into her hair like he was nuzzling her head. Was sweet really, and something entirely new, to be so close to a man who wanted nothing from her besides her company. Not to talk, or to kiss, or to fumble around under sheets, but just to have and to hold and find comfort in her presence, because just like her, he felt lost and alone in the big, scary world.

It was… nice. Warm. Comforting even, and much as she wanted to enjoy the moment while it lasted, it also reminded her that the Firstborn and the Rangers might as well be from a different world from her. They were strong, but this was the Coral Desert, and chances were, none of them were gonna make it out of here alive, so Noora had to do as she was told if she wanted to survive. “Get him talking,” miss Laura had said, after that whole mess with the Firstborn, Big Al, and Tank. “He broken just like you, so use that. Ask him ‘bout where he been and what he done, and what sort of damage he got. Understand?”

Noora didn’t, but she nodded anyways, because she was getting tossed out of the saloon either way. Problem was, she hadn’t had a chance to talk to the Firstborn alone until now, and he didn’t seem like the sharing type. Remembering miss Laura’s instructions, Noora took a deep breath, leaned harder against the Firstborn, and asked, “If you ain’t gonna share, you mind if I do?”

“If you wanna talk, I’m here to listen.”

A perfect reply, one given without pause, and to Noora’s surprise, she did want to talk. She told him all about life before there was a town, before Papa got shot and Mama killed herself, and before Noora became nothing more than a prize. She didn’t go into the details, but she told him how many ‘daddies’ she’d gone through, and how Sherrif Gil was by far the worst of them all. Shared with him how happy she was to learn he was dead, and how she’d wished she’d thought to ask for a ride out of town when he left. How she hoped the Rangers would settle this attack soon and be on their way out of Pleasant Dunes, because she couldn’t wait to get away from here and see what the world was like outside the Coral Desert.

What she didn’t say was how she never expected to make it that far, and how she hoped if that was the case, that she’d die alongside the Firstborn and the Rangers. Was a strange thing. Noora endured all these years without even thinking about following in her mama’s footsteps, because she wanted so desperately to live, but now that she finally saw a chance to be free, she would sooner die than come back to this.

There wasn’t much else left for her to say, so she sat there wrapped in the Firstborn’s arm and held his hand for all she was worth. He held on tight too, because he knew she needed that from him and nothing else, just a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on while she cried a lifetime’s worth of tears in silence. Passed her a clean handkerchief too, and didn’t so much as shift an inch until she was good and done. “See?” she asked, leaning her head back to look up at the night’s sky. “Like I said, broken.”

And he was too. She knew it, just like she knew the sand was pale-pink and the skies honey-red. “You ain’t broken,” he said, denying it once again. “You’re hurt. Battered. Bruised and bleeding, but not broken. Got no quit in you, strength enough to endure, and so long as you have that, then nothing can ever break you.” Which was another way of looking at it, but words didn’t change the facts. As if to prove her point, the Firstborn hesitated, then asked, “You and me, we the same in that regard, just like you said, and truth of the matter is, you even stronger than I am.” She laughed, and he didn’t, just waited for her to stop and kept going. “I mean it. You own your pain. Wear it like a badge of honour to show how you’re stronger for it. Walk the walk too. Heard you was down in the bunker with Jay right there in the thick of it. That takes real courage, to face the danger head on instead of hiding away, which puts you head and shoulders above most folks round these parts.”

“Didn’t do much except reload her Blastguns and magazines,” Noora said, warmed by the compliment even if it wasn’t deserved.

“Still more than what most were doin’,” came the Firstborn’s reply. “We could all use a loader to help speed things along, but you see anyone else volunteer? Nah, they all stood around with their thumbs up their asses, just hoping we’d win and prepared to die if we lost.” Which was exactly how Noora had lived her life up until now. Sensing the argument before she could make it, the Firstborn continued, “Don’t matter how it’s been before we got here. What matters is you saw a chance to help and jumped at it. That right there is strength, more than what most have, and don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Wasn’t any arguing against him, and Noora didn’t know what else to say, so she quieted down until she thought to ask, “So how come you don’t do the same? Own your pain,” she clarified. “Show the world how you’re stronger for it.”

The Firstborn didn’t say anything, and Noora worried she’d pushed too far too fast. Men did love to talk, but they didn’t like answering to anyone, which made making conversation really complicated at times. Then, when she thought all was lost, he said, “Because it’s different. You were hurt because you didn’t have the ability to protect yourself. Me, I was hurt because I was stupid. Ain’t got no one to blame by myself.”

Which made things a whole lot clearer. Noora had seen it in plenty of other girls who’d been hurt like her. They’d say dumb things just like this, that it was their fault they were beaten or raped. If only they hadn’t done this, or gone there, or made this mistake and done something different, then surely they wouldn’t have been hurt, but the sad truth was that it was always gonna happen. Pretty girls were like fat sheep in a world full of wolves, wolves who didn’t need a reason to hurt them, because that’s what wolves do. It was plain as day, and Noora was shocked to see the Firstborn fall into so obvious a pit, but she knew telling him he was wrong wouldn’t do much of anything at all. Would only get his hackles up and put him on the defensive, because so long as he believed he knew why it’d happened, he thought he could keep it from happening again.

So she held her tongue and squeezed his hand, which was all she needed to do to keep him talking. “Happened while I was out on the road,” he began, whispering so softly she had to strain to hear him despite leaning right up against him. “Just me and Cowie. Wanted a hot meal, so I stopped early to make camp for the night. Never a good idea, as it makes you a target of opportunity. Somethin’ my daddy once told me, but I didn’t listen well enough. They showed up just as I was about to eat, asked if they could strike camp next to me. Wanted to say no, but didn’t want to fight over the spot, not with my food hot and ready. Saw it was only four of ‘em and figured I could take ‘em easy enough if I had to, or just leave after I ate if I was feelin’ leery.”

Was easy enough to guess the rest, but Noora didn’t say anything, just let the Firstborn get things off his chest. Not because she wanted to pass this information along to miss Laura. No, that catty old bitch didn’t matter anymore, not her, not the saloon, not anything or anyone here in Pleasant Dunes. For better or for worse, Noora was committed to leaving with the Rangers now, because the Firstborn had convinced her to leave with them. Didn’t know how he did it, didn’t even know she’d made the decision until this very moment, but she knew it in her bones and would never regret her choice. She wanted to hear what the Firstborn – no, what Howie wanted to say. Not so she could pass the information along like she’d been asked to, but because he’d been good enough to sit and listen to her. That’s all there was to it, and if miss Laura or one of Mr. Jacksons thugs came asking, Noora would tell them the Firstborn was a closed book who didn’t say a thing worth repeating.

“So their leader, he comes over all careful like, with hands up and all to ask if he can buy half my meal,” Howie continued, and Noora hung close to every whispered word. “Says he’s got a hunger for some good eats and is willing to pay a premium. I figure him for a fool once he names his price, so why not? Man pays and takes half my bird, then sits down to eat it right at my fire. Wanted to send him back to his side of the clearing, but he paid upfront and I didn’t think it’d be polite. Then he calls to his buddy and asks him to break out a bottle, before turning to me and tellin’ me how this is the good stuff, real premium hooch to pair with this fine meal. Pours two cups and tells his buddy to try a bite, then they get to drinkin’ and jawin’ about how delicious the meat is and how it perfectly pairs with the drink, so a third guy comes over to ask me how I done cooked it.”

Howie snorted, a mean and ugly sound full of contempt for his past self. “Sounds so stupid when I lay it all out like this. See all the warning signs I missed out on in the moment, but that’s how it is when you do something dumb. Instead of gettin’ my guard up, all the compliments and conversation got me relaxin’ around them, and we all get to talkin’ like we the best of friends. Soon enough, they offer me a drink, and I figure ‘why the hell not?’, you know? They all been takin’ swigs from the same bottle, so ain’t got nothin’ to worry about there, but problem ain’t in the liquor. It’s in the cup they pour the liquor into and hand over to me. I ain’t much of a drinker, but I take a little sip anyways, and whatever’s laced inside hits me hard and fast.”

Howie fell silent, and Noora could feel the steely rage flowing through him as he sat there all tense and broody, ready to stomp and scream as if that would change things for the better. Cowie sensed it too, waking up from his nap to nose at Howie and grumble in discontent, or maybe the bull was just upset because he wasn’t being pet anymore. Took a good long while to settle the bull, which Noora figured was Howie’s way of putting things off, but he didn’t need any prompting to bring him back on track.

“Should’ve sent them on their way,” he whispered, the fire still there, but banked and set aside for the moment. “Told them to get gone right quick, or at least made them stay on their side. Sharing my food is fine, but I should never have accepted the drink, all lessons my daddy taught me good and well before he passed, but I figured I could get away with it because they seemed friendly enough. How fucking stupid is that? If I’d taken a bigger swig, then that could’ve been the end of the Firstborn, buried by the wayside by a bunch of roofie rapists. Bad end that, but it’s better to be lucky than good.”

He didn’t share any details about what happened, nor would she press him, but seeing how he was alive and well, he clearly survived the encounter, which likely meant the other men didn’t. Was clear it left damage though, and he had a belly full of rage about it, but unless he was willing to talk more about it, she figured it was best to leave things for now. One step at a time after all, so she turned in her seat until they were sitting side by side again, and leaned back until she could look him in the eyes. They were a dark, rich brown, but they had a warm tone when the light hit them just right, a warmth that did nothing to soften his callous and tired gaze, one which awaited her reaction with only a little bit of dread and apprehension.

“It’s not your fault Howie,” Noora said, and he winced to hear her say it. “They were looking for a victim, and you just happened to be there. Even if you’d done everything right, chances are they would’ve still gone after you all the same. That’s what people like them do. They find victims to hurt.”

“Yea, but least then I’d’ve put up a better fight,” Howie fired back, but there wasn’t any heat in it. Was just a statement, like he’d had this argument countless times before and was just going through the motions. “Can’t do nothing about what other folks do. All I can do is be accountable for my own actions, and I should’ve known better than to get myself drugged and trapped in a tent with some fat fuck’s meaty fingers wrapped around my neck.”

And the floodgates were open as he kept talking, reliving the memories before her eyes. “Took his time he did,” Howie whispered, his arm squeezing her ever so tightly without even noticing. “Slowly choked me out until I saw stars before letting me breathe, all while goin’ on about the things he’d do to me if I passed out or died.” Now that was a sick bastard if there ever was one, but Howie wasn’t paying attention to her expression. Was sitting up tall and proud, as if faking it would make him feel better about this all as he stared up at the night’s sky. “Wanted to watch me break, make me beg and plead for my life, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. Just glared and swore and told him I’d kill him for this. Made him angry and sloppy it did, so the next time he chokes me, he gets in good and close, and I hold onto one thought the whole time through. Soon as he lets go of my neck, he throws his hands out wide like he always does, a big flourish to all the theatrics, but I don’t go limp. No, I lunge at him instead, and sink my teeth into his neck.”

Howie wasn’t sharing no more. He was venting, still in a quiet whisper but the words were flooding out, because he’d held onto this secret for so long it must’ve been a relief to get it off his chest. “There’s a Cantrip I learned so I could try and teach Cowie,” he said, switching tracks all of a sudden and leaving Noora with whiplash. “It’s called Primal Savagery, on account of how it’s mostly used by shapeshifters or Innates who got horns, fangs, claws or whatnot. What it does is take those bone-like protrusions and transmutes the keratin, which is that shiny coating on the surface, into Acid. Since he can grow horns and whatnot, I figured Cowie could add an extra bit of whomp with the Cantrip, but could never get his numbers straight.” While the statement sounded like a joke, Howie’s tone was too matter-of-fact to sell it, but Noora kept quiet and listened. “Thing is, people got keratin too. On our nails and teeth mostly, and some in your hair, but I ain’t so sure if the Spell work with that last bit. Definitely works with the first two though.” Sucking his teeth, Howie’s lips quirked in a smile that wasn’t really a smile as he said, “Yea. I bit right down on his meaty neck and delivered a nice big dose of Acid right into his bloodstream to make good on my promise. Didn’t scream as he went down, on account of how it melted half his throat, but he died hard, that’s to be sure.”

Now there was a thought to turn her stomach, but it seemed to reassure Howie some. Patting the bull, he pressed his forehead up against Cowie’s, and the two of them held that pose while looking peaceful and content as can be. “Would’ve been the end of me then and there if it wasn’t for Cowie, as I was too weak to even shout, much less fight off three men. He smelt the blood and Acid though, knew something was up. Trampled and gored the other three right outside the tent and killed them before they even thought to draw, showing how he don’t need no Acid to clean house. I figure they wanted to capture and sell him, since they saw how he went from baby to big, and didn’t think a placid, wagon pulling bull could ever be a real threat.”

Turning to look her in the eyes, Howie concluded, “See the difference? You, you didn’t do nothing wrong. You played the cards life dealt you, and you made it this far, which is something to be proud of. Me, I took a stupid gamble I ought to have known better than to even try, and luck is the only reason I’m still drawing breath here and now. Well, luck and Cowie, but I can’t always count on luck, now can I?” Heaving a long and heavy sigh, he gave her a half-hearted smile, and she gave him one in turn, even though she didn’t agree with his conclusion. Howie was too hard on himself, because while he might’ve made a mistake in trusting strangers, it was only human nature to want to trust. She’d long lost count of how many times she’d made the same mistake, and truth was, she might well be making it again here and now by trusting him and the Rangers. That’s life though. No matter how bad life got, you had to trust someone at some point, because there was no way to make it out here all by yourself.

But instead of arguing, she pulled his arm tight around her shoulders, snuggled into his chest with a sigh, and said, “Thanks for sharing.”

That earned her a genuine smile from him, that half-quirked wry smile she found so fetching on him. “Thanks for convincing me to. Don’t tell no one.” Squeezing her close in a hug that was nowhere near enough, he broke it off and said, “Now get gone. I need sleep, and can’t well get any with you right beside me.”

“You could,” she replied, only to instantly regret it. He didn’t like forward women, else he’d have accepted by now.

“Time and place, Noora,” he said with that same smile, but he didn’t promise anything else. “Gotta pick your time and place.”

After all this, when they were away from Pleasant Dunes and somewhere safe again. That much she promised herself as she walked away, and when she glanced back, she was happy to see him watching her leave. Made her cheeks flush of all things, especially when he winked and kept watching instead of looking away, which was promising to say the least. As she crawled into the wagon and laid down atop the soft wool blankets, she tried her damnedest to remind herself that dreams were nothing more than idle fantasies, not plans or goals to aspire to, but for the first time in years, she found herself wishing with all her hearts that reality could just this once rise up and match expectations.

Sure, the Firstborn was a little rough around the edges, and he was the same sort of murderous killer as the men who’d hurt her so many times before, but maybe, just maybe, things would work out different, and Noora would find some measure of happiness in his embrace.