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Howling echoed through the jutting dark mountain ridges. A sea of trees shivered below. The region was marked by freshly-carved trails, of which the wildlife had made no prior agreement to.
Tonight, a lone rider braved these desolate trails. The clattering of hooves as they caught on uneven ground was hushed by a shroud of dense forest. The man noted the closing distance between himself and the pack of wolves. When it came to addressing this problem, his choices were few. Once he entered the beasts territory, there would be no camping before he reached the nearest settlement. His other option was to retreat to the trading outpost he'd just departed, but that would mean the potential loss of his mark, and right after he'd managed to pick up the scent. When he glanced over his shoulder, he only saw faint afterimages of the outposts' oil lanterns in the distance.
Tugging the reins, he pressed onwards. There would be no rest for the wicked.
Even when the wolves paused their mournful wails and the wind stilled, the earth’s slumbering breath could be heard, low and gentle. As the man pressed on, interwoven branches began blocking out what little moonlight passed through the clouds. The dim light of his lantern fought to penetrate the blackness ahead.
He moved slowly, minimizing the sounds of creaking leather and jangling metal wherever possible. He kept his eyes trained on the ground. A broken twig here, an overturned stone there. The lingering smell of smoke. How fresh were those hoofprints? He put out the lantern. So, too, ceased the muttering of the forest. He listened closely. The barely audible crackling of a flame emanated from somewhere off the path. Following the sound, a soft, warm glow sprung from the pitch darkness.
The crunching of underbrush beneath his feet preceded the man's approach, now leading his horse behind him on foot. Nestled into a shallowly dug pit was a campfire, a pot suspended above the heat. A broad brimmed hat and thick fur shrouded an entity camouflaged among thick foliage. It was only when he chose to lift his head that the shape of a person emerged from the very edge of the light. Taking a step forward, the man with the horse spoke first.
“Evening, stranger.” He tipped his hat. It cast a stark shadow across his nose, but the flickering fire lit up the pearly grin that emerged beneath his waxed mustache, and reflected the shimmering surface of the badge fastened to his lapel. The beast of burden behind him exhaled sharply, its body only visible by the coarse hairs sparsely clad in umber by the light. “Hope I haven't frightened you, sir.”
The seated figure shook his head without looking up.
“S’pose a man and a horse don’t compare much to a pack of wolves out looking for blood. But it don’t seem like you’re letting those boys bother you, either.”
“You don’t need to worry about them none, sir,” said the man in the brush, breaking his silence. His voice was soft, scratchy, and he spoke with an odd lilt. “They’re just tryin’ to survive, same as you and I. Mind your business, they’ll mind theirs.”
The lawman chuckled. “Now, ain’t that some wisdom?”
As if part of their conversation, a deep howl rumbled from the wood.
“Say, if you ain’t pestered by those hounds,” he pondered, “think they’ll leave me be if I join ya?”
Wordlessly, the stranger gestured to a spot across the fire pit. The lawman nodded in thanks, then settled into the patch of dirt.
A chorus of crickets and the layered rushing of water from a nearby stream filled the evening. The fire, stark against the night, danced for them. Before their eyes, visions flickered in and out of existence. With its constant motion, the firelight cast shuddering waves of shadows on the stranger's pelt.
“That’s a fine fur you've got there,” said the lawman. “You trade em’?”
“Only when I've got some to spare.”
“Not willing to part with the one on your back, huh?”
A charged pause hung between them. “Sorry, sir.”
“Ha, I kid, stranger. It’s quite the impressive skin, though.” He raked his gaze over the fur. The dense, white wefts were surely soft to the touch, but the hide itself was tough and not easily scathed. He laughed heartily, “Hell, for a second I thought one of those damn beasts had learned to rub two sticks together when I stumbled across you. Thank God, it was only a man.”
Another quiet stretch unfolded. Each time the clouds parted, the moon crept that much further across the sky. Between tending the fire, the fur trader whittled away with a knife, replenishing his quiver with arrows.
The lawman asked, “This area where you do your hunting?”
The stranger shook his head.
“Then, what brings you this way? If you don't mind my prying.”
“Headed west,” he said. “Seasonal work.”
“Say…You ain't following those rumors, are ya?” The lawman scratched at his beard with unease. “The ones talking ‘bout easy money.”
He reached for his canteen, but when he held it over his tongue, the steel was bone dry. Returning it to his saddlebag, he grumbled under his breath. When he turned back to the fire, an outstretched arm held a waterskin. It was heavy, the weight of the water stretching the leather that filled his palm. Curling his fingers, he squeezed and sent the cool water pouring. Once he’d soothed the dryness in his throat, he wiped clean the stray drops that trickled from his chin.
“Ah…The ones about the gold?” the stranger asked. The skin was handed back to him, and he replaced it with his belongings without passing it over his lips. “Too good to be true?”
“Sure as shit it's too good,” the lawman spat. He turned his head to leer into the woods. “I don't need to watch any more honest men kill themselves searching for it to know that...Pardon my language, stranger. It's a tragedy, that's all.”
“No offense taken, sir.” A handful of fresh tinder was tossed into the fire, and the twigs snapped and blackened. “That’s a shame.”
“A damn shame.”
The stranger’s voice was hoarse, but he spoke without doubt, “Then, you're hunting something different.”
There was a glint in the lawman’s eye.
“You're a keen man– I'm sure you caught sight of this pretty little pin of mine.” He slid his thumb beneath it, and the surface glimmered. “Top brass got me on an away mission, you could say. Been a real slow going one, too. But a clever man's got patience. ‘Sure a trapper such as yourself don't need to hear me say that.”
Moths gathered above the flame.
“I see,” said the stranger. He had returned to his arrow carving, shaving paper-thin slices from the wood, only slightly impeded by the dullness of the blade he used. “I pray our journeys will lead us homeward soon.”
“That’s kind of you.” The insects fluttered about the beacon, diving low through ephemeral wisps, undeterred by the rising heat. “I’m afraid it’ll still be a long, long time before I see that place again.”
“Perhaps it’s simply in men's nature.” Polishing one final arrow shaft, the stranger placed it in his quiver and began to pack up his tools. “For home to be a place far away.”
“Maybe so. But, there may yet come a day when it isn't. Where home’s not far, but all around. In the buildings, in the air, in the people going about with their lives and with their families– right there in the dirt beneath their feet.”
The lawman turned his eyes toward the sky, a fairer shade gradually crawling across it, starting from the eastern horizon. He watched the sun drown out the stars and the moths that followed suit. Even as the night faded, light seemed unable to pierce the darkness in the man’s eyes. He stamped one spurred boot into the ground.
“ …Well, I find it's a nice thought. Don't you?”
At the brink of dawn, a single moth lingered behind, the rest of its brethren long gone to their hiding places beneath stones and rotting leaves. Unable to stray far, it flew in circles, tighter and tighter, until it at last spiralled into the flames.
The stranger lifted his head, revealing a face bound tightly in wound dressing. Where gaps had been left for his vision, the warming hues of the sky were reflected with extraordinary clarity, like the lakes nestled at mountain bases that mirrored the greatness of the wild. “...Yes. I think I'd like to see that day.”
In the moment when the night was not quite over and the day had yet to break, a stillness fell around them. As the first hints of orange and red brushed over the sky, both men slowly rose to their feet. The earth held its breath.
The lawman tipped his hat. He brought one hand to his belt. “Glad we agree.”
At last, with no warning or fanfare, a sudden flurry of movement erupted, and the first radiant spears of sunlight pierced the air. Fast as lightning, each man took grip of the iron at their hips. They raced against the forces of nature. Bootheels dug into the dirt. Dust clouds bloomed and the underbrush trembled. Intricate mechanisms of polished metal loaded their barrels with a click. Then, with a pull of their index fingers–
Bang!
The sound tore through the wood.
Flocks of sparrows burst from the rattled branches and grazing deer snapped their necks before dashing madly to their dens. The lawman pulled himself onto his horse's saddle. He scanned the bushes for that stark white pelt. It took a thorough combing before he spotted it, crumpled into a heap.
As he approached, the outcome became clear– the stranger had vanished.
With a crack of the reins, the lawman went dashing through the trees, but just as quickly as he had bolted did he come to an abrupt halt.
The black stallion lifted its front hooves and whinnied as it pulled back from a stony ridge. Loose rocks tumbled down the steep cliffs into the ravine below. The rushing torrents drowned out the sounds of them hitting the water. He followed the winding stream with his gaze until it wrapped around a boulder, tapering into nothingness. For a moment, he paused, dazzled by the hundreds of brilliant shimmers that danced across the rapids.
Retracing his steps, he found the fur once more. The lawman descended from his saddle to reach for it. Twisting his fingers into the tufts, he drew it toward his face. It was warm. He took a deep inhale, breathing in the scent that belonged to neither man nor beast. As he exhaled, he tightened his clasp on his reins.
The forsaken cry of a lone wolf ushered in the new day.
