Bitterroot Valley Exit, Pursued by a Bruised Ego

With the single clenching of a powerful jaw, Sega brought down the cow, his kill a swift one. Merciful. Benevolent. Eyes met, sun-gold against night-red. And the outlaw was met with praise for the first time in what felt like... forever. He gave a polite dip of his head at the words, oblivious on how to accept such words.
Rolled his shoulders. Stepped in to eat. Preserved the skin. They could bring chunks of the meat home. Scent-mark the carcass itself, should the valley-wolves need to find it. Sega himself said to keep the hide, spoke of Angel, and Barrett replied:
I'd like to learn from her, should'ya be allowin' of it, he hummed. Make myself useful 'round 'ere, huh? Sure you've got plenty'a hun'ers.
A chuckle left him. Dry, almost. But warmer when he looked upon Sega.