Shadowwyn Moor been on the low lately the feds hate me

"...and my nihhlesh get like ichecu'es." she continued. "i'd rather halk all night ih 'ee can't hind a den. hack shleepin' in the shnow."

she spat.

five days. five days of this shit were more than enough for gun. her winter coat was a thong in the face of a blizzard. now her limbs moved more to keep the blood from freezing, than to reach the next vaguely familiar landmark. the mastiff snorted. 

then, she sniffed.

"hait." 

gun brought her snout nearer the snow, sticking her face into a hole her leg had just made in it. after a deep inhale, the great head reemerged.

"yuh." her tongue rolled out to warm her whiskers. the good side of her face joined the other in a grin.

"he're hack."

@Indra III

Nothing was going their way until Gun's head went down and Indra heard her comment. The wraith snaked up beside the big lug and drew some breaths, and once satisfied herself she moved to nip playfully at one of Gun's fleshy shoulders.

It had been hard running at first, then cautious roaming through snow so thick that Indra thought they were certainly done-for. They were home now though, far from the hellscape of roaring metal, close quarters, and their captor.

Rest here, she suggested softly, still not used to the sound of her own voice.

"damn right." 

gun began walking in a tight, tight circle, widening the holes her legs had made until they were a single, large one. the mastiff then half-sat, making sure her bum didn't touch the cold, wet, grass-mush.

"y'know, all thingsh conshidered, 'e hit it hig ti'e, lil' red." head canted and tongue loling, she grinned at the taller female. "hood, shelter, got our nailsh did... ol' nagshter hon't ha'e a thing to hold againsht ush."

The boorish woman moved to clear some snow.
Indra was left to her own devices for a few minutes and as a result, her mind wandered.
What if they moved on? She voiced this fear openly before Gun, then realized it, and with a grimace that mimicked what she remembered of Colt's scowls, let the thought rest upon the snow.

They'd be moving on soon - they'd need food and shelter, somewhere to rest properly. If they couldn't find the gang then they'd figure something out.

the mastiff spat a fat loogie off to the side, which was her answer.

"huck 'em, ih they did." wrinkles curved in an open-mawed grin, tongue lolling out. her panting resembled a breathy laugh. "it'sh hinter. they ain't gonna make it oher the hountainsh. hacksh there, hood rare. nah." and another, noisy and wet clearing of the throat.

"ih they ain't shtill 'ere, they'sh heen chashed ohh. or dishpershed, ih ol' tarshnout'sh kicked the hucket."

She didn't like the thought of Colt dead.
It seemed impossible, actually. He was the kind of person to persist even after the fall of all things; he was too powerful a presence to just die. He's alive, Indra vouched with certainty.
The girl eyed her companion a moment as if daring her to say anything contrary to her belief, but her eyes went a bit misty and far-away, as she considered their next options; but all she could envision was the emaciated corpse-walker that was Colt, clinging to life and surrounded by the rest of the gang, long dead.
It was sobering.
C'mon, those creek dogs would be in for a bad hauntin' if they gutted Colt. Her voice turned in to a wheeze, and after a huff and a cough, Indra began to stalk onward through the snow. Rest over - they had places to scout.

"sure, red." but gun still had that smile on.

deeper down, where a heart beat stronger than the simple brain worked, she held a similar conviction. the red-eyed man was her boss, her gangmate, her side piece. gun liked to think he wouldn't be any of those if he were a weakling.

she got up, pausing a moment to scratch her neck with a hindleg. warm the ol' chain, else it glued to her skin.

"lead the hay, little." she barked, following after the girl of mismatched ears.

fade n tag me in another? them arriving to find the emberwood empty, or something else before that? :eyesemoji: