Prairie Dodge: Foes to Friends

[cowboyjotaro]

A groan escaped Ringo’s lips as he was slowly roused from consciousness. A sharp pain ripped through his abdomen, making his entire body tense up. He felt as though someone had rang a large church bell right next to him, the vibrations of pain still ripping through his body like a knife through butter.

He tried to open his eyes, but they were as if glued shut by caked sand and dirt. His lips, devoid of any moisture, hugged each other tightly. He tried to open his mouth and found that he struggled to do so. ‘Water,’ he thought. If only he could be fed some water. What had happened to leave the cowboy in such a state?

The gunshots and war cries were still fresh in his ears. He remembered shooting down native after native without mercy, leaving a trail of blood and tears on thirsty grass. And then, he had thought, enough was enough. No matter his personal circumstances, he refused to kill anyone else for a cause he opposed, led by men he didn’t respect.

Coming to this decision did anything but save Ringo, however. He was cut down not even a minute later. Cut down! Ringo groaned again, clutching at his stomach. Where was he now? He couldn’t feel the infernal Prairie Dodge sun scorching his sun, so he had to be under cover. Slowly, his eyelids rose and he blinked as he came to.

He was in a dark cave, the entrance to which was only made visible from the sunlight pouring in a distance away. As he clutched his torso, he felt the tough fabric of bandages wrapped around his body, and looked down, confirming the same. Someone had saved him, evidently, but who? The noise of something small rustling around hit his ears. He whipped his head in the sound’s direction, taking note of his surroundings.

"Ah, holy shit!" Ringo yelled out, greeted by a mess of imposing feather and bone. Rather than the carcass of a dead bird, however, what was before Ringo was none other than a native headdress - a rather ornate one at that. And below the headdress, its owner: a tall, tan, and toned native in slightly different dress than the warriors that he had been so regrettably shooting at.

Ringo fell backwards onto his hands and skidded backwards as far as his wounds would allow. He reached towards his waist for one of his twin pistols, but his trusty sidekicks were nowhere to be found. Instead, all he grasped was air - not even his holster remained wrapped around his waist.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked loudly, before noticing a small, creepy child slightly behind the native staring at him with a neutral expression. “What the hell is that?” He furtively looked around him, hoping his trusty guns would be somewhere nearby, but all the action accomplished was more searing pain. More questions surged to the fore of his mind, but he couldn’t utter any more than those two.

Where was he? What happened to the war? Most of all, how the hell could he escape? He didn’t know why his enemy would nurse him back to health, but he couldn’t rule out sick, sadistic reasons. These savages…no, those were his father’s words. These natives, what was their game?

[Mai Kobayashi]

...Oh! He's alive.

The child proffered without a single shade of emotion coloring the expression on her face. She almost resembled a porcelain doll in the manner in which the horned child simply stood and watched. In truth, it was only the fact that she spoke in a soft, strangely monotonous manner that betrayed she was truly alive at all and not just an object put in the room to give the rugged cowboy the creeps. Her strangely slitted but intensely blue eyes observed him calmly, offering only the same neutral expression as the rest of her face did. She had not responded to him grabbing his stomach and his obvious pain did nothing to soften that uncaring seeming stare. Neither did she seem to react to his confusion as he scrambled into a corner reaching for a weapon that was no longer there. But where he showed fear and confusion she showed neither.

Wat she did do, was walk right past the man in his feather headdress and approach him. Seemingly careless and defenseless she sat down on her knees right in front of him. Were he off ill intentions it was almost laughably easy to reach out and grab the child to use as a hostage or do some other foul thing. But her intentions soon became apparent. For a moment more she stared at him before holding out a leather hide sown together into the shape of a bag with a small spout whittled from bone fastened to its top. The slight sloshing sound it produced as she moved it made it clear what it was. A waterskin of some sort though whether it would contain water or something else he would only know if he took it.

She yet said nothing, only making a small motion with the bag towards him, as if to say he should drink.

[Sam]

From the other side of the cavern Ashkii sat carefully watching the cowboy. He made sure Wakana was behind him, even if she could more than hold her own and the man was no real threat to either of them. That said, Ashkii himself was wounded, at least two bullet wounds were in his body. Awful, that weakened him a lot but at least with Wakana's help he'd been able to patch himself and the cowboy up using salve cactus ichor. Their wounds would heal, soon enough.

His brown eyes settled intently at the resting figure before him. He had never been so close to one of the settlers before. It was usually the tribe messengers who did most of the interacting. As a child, Ashkii had heard many stories of the settlers... the ghost faces as some called them. Some children told stories of them. Said they were cold to the touch and had no blood which is why they were pale.

Of course these were just stories, Ash was well aware of them being nothing but false. But, there was still a degree of child-like wonder about them as he looked at Ringo. That's when the man arose, Ashkii flinched instinctively going to reach for his axe but stopping him. No, he was harmless.

"Hm? That's Wakana. She is the smiling bison."

Ashkii watched as his companion fearlessly approached the man. As always when she spoke the common tongue her voice was... well it was rather to the point to put it bluntly. The man did have to wonder how that would bode their guest. The shaman looked on at the man as he grasped a the air around his hips. Looking for his pistols? Good thing Ashkii had buried them outside the cave.

"Worry not, I mean no harm."

He responded, the man let out a sigh which in turn reminded him of his own wounds. Maybe he shouldn't breath that heavily, he clenched his teeth and put a hand over the left side of his gut.

"My name is Honiahaka Ashkii, in my people's tongue it means Little Wolf Boy. That name is also acceptable."

Ashkii replied, his dark eyes looked across the room. He pointed to some ceramic jars. There were still some questions he had to ask this man. Why did he run? What got into him. What reason could anyone have? He needed to know. Perhaps he was the key to everlasting peace between their people. But he couldn't jump the gun. Everything was to be done a step at a time. Carefully and tactfully.

"Help yourself to some ember water."

---

Ashkii | Terracotta #E3735E | (post count: 1)

[cowboyjotaro]

Suddenly, Ringo’s face became flushed as blood ran to his cheeks from shame. No, if these natives had wanted to kill him, they could have done so at any time. Instead, they had given him medical attention and were generously handing him water, which he accepted. Yanking the delicately assembled leather hide water bag from the small child with both hands, he poured the water into his throat without finesse and with great thirst, letting copious amounts splash on his face and below his chin as he desperately replenished his liquids.

“Aaah, ugh, kugh!” Pausing to exhale and cough out wet dirt and sand, Ringo leaned back and stared emptily at the ceiling of the cave, noticing every notch and crevice. What must they think of him? Him, who rode with the settlers aiming to seize their lands. Him, whose pistols were hidden somewhere so he couldn’t cause more devastation and death. He remained in that position for a little while, simply staring up above aimlessly, until his gaze descended on the pair once more, and he handed the waterskin back.

Smiling Bison. Little Wolf Boy. Did their tribe make a conscious effort to choose ill-fitting names? Wakana and Ashkii.

“Why thank you kindly, little lady, your water is much appreciated. It felt like I hadn’t had a good drink in years - and I might not have a drink that good for years again.” Ringo grinned, but inside he didn’t feel his usual charming self. Instead, he worried about his situation. Should he proffer his deepest apologies on behalf of all of his people? No, with as much blood as the settler army now had on their hands, that would be insincere. Should he try to explain, that actually, Ringo was “a good settler”, and never wanted to fight in the first place? How could they trust him. Ah, to be anywhere else but this tense, lonely cave! Away from their prying eyes.

“The name’s Ringo. Ringo Dalton,” Ringo began, but paused, unsure of what to say next. Besides a name, there was no introduction needed. All three knew where they had come from, and where they had just been. To talk of anything else would have been foolish.

“Have you heard of Cobalt Lazuli? Of course you have.” He reached into his pocket and rummaged around, praying they were still there - the few remaining crystals of his missing fortune. He held the small, three-inch crystal between his thumb and index fingers in front of his eyes, letting the reflection of his somber stare shine through.

“For this tiny crystal, men would shed a reservoir of blood. They would betray their family, lie, steal, and murder. I know because I’ve seen it happen,” Ringo explained, pausing only to relieve his latest fit of coughing. He deftly twirled the crystal around in his fingers, an action possible thanks to much muscle memory.

Suddenly, without warning, he raised his arm high and smashed the Cobalt Lazuli to bits with ferocity on a nearby rock, shattering it into a smattering of small, worthless pieces.

“No more.”

He fell silent, then, staring at the light coming from the entrance to the cave, wondering what his newfound friends would say.

[Mai Kobayashi]

The child simply let go of the bag of water as it was yoinked from her hands and watched with keen interest as the man poured it into his mouth with such haste he ended spilling almost as much of the water as he ended up imbibing. She inclined her head sideways, looking at him a sideways glance that while obviously showing her interest, did little to change the blank stare she was giving him. Even when he finally thanked her she just nodded decisively and took a step forwards to accept the return of the waterskin. Rather than make a hasty retreat or show any other sign of being fearful or shy in the slightest, as one might assume.. she instead took another step towards the man. She stretched out her tiny hand and straining to stand on the tips of her toes patted the man on top of his hat with the same neutral expression on her face all the while. A comically childlike way of expressing her care all things considered.

She only took a step back and turned to look when Ashkii decided to speak and finally pointed at the barrels. Though she had shown barely any reaction so far, at least on her face. The mention of 'ember water' caused her to narrow her eyebrows and pout. A very clear sign by her standards that she did not approve of the proffered substance. However, it seemed that rather than take him up on that offer, the cowboy had a rather more dramatic gesture in mind. As he smashed the small piece of blue glass on the floor, she looked between the shattered fragments and the man for a moment before sitting down on her knees next to the blue substance and picking up one of the tiny fragments and holding it up towards the light coming from the cave entrance. Her mouth was slightly agape as it seemed like she was admiring the facets of color the light was splitting into as it passed through the coba...

No, she just put it in her mouth and began to chew. Not long afterward spitting out the piece of blue glass, sticking out her tongue, and making a rather displeased face about it.

...Blegh! Tastes bad.