Two Rivers Isle fan mail from 27 million

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she could not believe her eyes.

yet, right there he was; 

humongous. bulky. tousled hackles. rolling backside. filled-out obliques. male. 

elbow deep in the river, the waters licking him right where [ THIS CONTENT EXCEEDS THE BOARD'S SEXUAL MATERIAL RATING ] with a side of raw turnips. gun was slobbering.

but, to be fair, she always was.

after taking a minute to get her wrinkles organised from thickest to thinnest, gun swaggered out from behind the trees, adding a bit of sway to her hips.

she came to stand with forelegs crossed and toes in the mud, calling out to @Boone Underwood with a barked howl, descending to words;

...hhhhhellooooo, shir. she swiped the froth off her chops with her tongue. you new heeeere?

bat of eyelashes like faulty window blinds being forced shut.

The dawn of a new day. The first of what would likely be many in Two Rivers Isle. 
A quiet night had shifted to a quiet morning, and then an even more quiet afternoon. Nothing but him and his own thoughts that rattle around in the chasms of a swollen mind. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety; 
And so he'd found himself in need of a well-deserved morning dip in one of the waterways. Surely that would snap him out of it. 
And all was fine, all was peaceful. Submerged almost halfway into the waterwell, a refreshing cool against the late June heat that blistered his back, tongue lapping at the surface and eyes locked on the ripples it created. 

And that was exactly the moment he was approached by what must have been an otherworldly beast. 
Except he doesn't say that; doesn't say much of anything, just blinks at the giant orange mass of wrinkles and says, S'cuse me? 

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gun's current state had colt briggs fucked all kinds of ways. he was certain he wasn't about to risk it with her no matter how compelling her bouquet was or her claims to get rid of them, despite the fragrance of it scattered all through the isle.
iseul had taken in a new man the other day, and that had perked his ears, cuz colt cared not a racoon's scrote for any men moving into the land, let alone at this particular time. he'd kept his eyes peeled for the fella, refreshing the border with prolific sprays of musky urine.
inevitably, colt found gun's trail again, and she seemed to be seeking something. a second later, he discovered exactly what.
"gawdayum, if yew ain't a big fucker!" colt hooted, swaggering into the scene with the intention of commanding their attention at once.  
giant man, sort of a gentle type, if colt had to guess. but he wasn't about to guess, he'd learned not to underestimate anyone. and so he only shot gun a what the fuck are you doing stare before turning his focus back to the newcomer. "name's colt. what's yers, friend?"

More quickly than he'd anticipated, he'd learned exactly what Iseul had meant by Colt and his friends. A scraggly little rat-man had approached, damn near hurtling himself right into the conversation. So this was Colt! 
And ain't you an ugly duckling, was what he wanted to say once the shrewd comment hit his ears, but Boone was not one to spout such blasphemy upon a first meeting. He prioritized his good first impressions. 
Whirling around to face him, he steps up onto the bank of the river with a quick shimmy. Boone, had he a hat, he would have tipped it. this here little lady your, uh, friend? I'm guessin'? He gestures to the wrinkled woman with a hefty swing of his paw. He almost wanted to add that he hadn't touched her, if that was Colt's concern; but he wouldn't bring that trouble upon himself. 

she was offended.

tarsnout walked in like a grandmother catching whiff of her grandson going a tad below the hips with a girl nowhere near marriage.

gun stared back at him, meaty bottom lip sticking out in a pout. yeah yeah, they had that deal, but didn't he trust her? would he really deprive her in this time of need? did he hate female empowerment?

she grumbled, until the "friend" assumption.

hhuck yeah i ahh! likely interrupting tarsnout's reply, gun stuck out her chest with a huff. na'e'sh gun,

slappy wink.

hhister large.

boone turned out to wear a mountainback accent and this amused colt, relaxed him a little. brought him to mind of reno and red. all hicks here now, he told himself with a grin. "she is. prime-o fighter t'boot."
if boone had any designs on the muscular temptation that was fun, colt didn't see it. yet. a man was a man, though, and these past few days had put briggs into such a whirl he was about to go outside the isle and seek opportunity among the local women who couldn't fall pregnant.
and yes, he thought of wren, with no regrets. they'd treated each other well.
"whereabouts yew from, boone?" colt pressed with a nasty little flicker in his crimson eyes.

The cogs had started to turn in his brain the longer he looked at the wrinklewoman, the more he understood her scent. The way she batted her eyes at him. 
He felt a little bit like a zoo animal, if he were honest.
Well! he's quick to casually ignore the second comment about his size today, offering each a bow of his head out of courtesy. Pleasure's mine, then, Gun. 
Shuffling and shifting, he eases into a seated position against an old spruce, head tipped back. Colt carried a similar enough accent to his own, though it brought to mind sagebrush and wildfire more than it did a creek nestled between the hills. It may as well have been completely foreign. Nevertheless, the mountaineer is happy to oblige in the question. L'il holler southeast a' here, he waves a paw around, pointing in the direction he came from, as if he were visualizing a map. Ever heard a' Mount Chesney? I lived right at the base of it. Was home, but I needed somethin' different, for a while. So, here I am.  
But that was enough about him. Now, he leans forward, leering at the oddballs with a curious glint to hickory eyes. How 'bout y'all? You know each other from someplace else? 

skipping w permission!

"ne're e'en heard of it, but i been thru enough mountains they damn near look th'same after a while, don't they, amigo." colt's laugh was broad and brash. "gun's been a part of my gang a while, mister. we seen some shit, ain't we, gun."
but his eyes hadn't left the man, though colt took a seat when the younger dude did. seen some shit. colt doubted boone'd done anything but mope about. a fella who remembered where he come from, well, ain't that a sight? 
colt didn't intend to give nothin away, not to this loyal-soundin' son o'hollers at the base of mountains. folk seemed peaceful enough then their blade was at your throat.

He was well enough aware of the difference in Colt's tone as opposed to his body language. The leering gaze of crimson that stares back at him, slowly peeling the layers of his skin; damn creepy, is what it was.
Don't sound to me like you've spent enough time in 'em, Was this a useless pissing contest? Yes, it sure as hell was. But it was entertaining, at the least, and it brings a smirk to one side of his mouth. Reeeeeal hillbillies know their valleys when they see 'em. Ha!
It's lighthearted, a bouncing chuckle that follows his competitive statement, but the tension is obvious, and a brief flicker of embarrassment passes over him in the wrinklewoman's — Gun's — favor.
Seen some shit, have ya now? At that, his eyebrow quirks. Sure, he'll bite. Got any stories, then, tough guy?