Chapter 21: Wanderings

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter takes place a couple hours after Ebony sang the men in the bar asleep and a couple of days before Sebastian goes back to Ciel and tells him Ebony is innocent. I hope you all enjoy!

~Ashlee

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I cover my mouth from the dust, coughing and sputtering to try to expel it from my throat.

Here I am in the desert with no supplies or water of any kind. I just pray that I'm going in the right direction.

I am currently traveling to the town over from the one where I Bo almost arrested me at. The sun has begun to sink low in the sky bringing a chill to the air. And here I am in a dress. Speaking of which the hem catches on my feet nearly causing me to trip. Even my Siren's grace cannot help me.

Worst still as the sun is replaced by the pale glow of the crescent moon I can hear wolves or coyotes howl in the distance. I quicken my step. Anything can be roaming here, it only becomes more dangerous when night falls.

I trudge forward, my skirt getting caught on branches and shrubs as I go. I hiss as I once again have to untangle the skirt from a low bush. The fabric rips ruining the dress, not that that matters anyway.

I shrug my shoulders as an idea comes to mind. The dress is already ruined, so why not?

I bend down and tear the fabric so it hangs tattered to my knees. I smirk at this, I've been in far more revealing. I think back to all the outfits I had to wear back when I was apart of Siren. At least this tattered dress offers more protecting.

I take the material I tore off and drape it around my shoulders. I'll need all the warmth I can get. Desert nights can be frigid and the later it gets the colder it gets.

I continue on my feet aching in my pinch-y shoes. However, these I keep on my feet. Who knows what's slithering on the ground?

I do wish for my boots though. The comfortable worn leather offers not only protection but reassurance. I shake this from my mind, no point wishing for that comfort now. Not when the wish is so impossible.

That's when I sense something, no not just something but a lot of somethings closing in. I silently curse myself. Damn my drifting mind. It was something my mother and father always chastised me about when I was a child. Funny how it has stayed with me when I have been through so much.

I plant my feet into the ground, legs slightly spread in a dancing position, but it is not only good for dancing.

The pale creasing moon offers a scant amount of lighting but it is enough. With my honed senses I can fight well even during a new moon. That is if my head isn't in the clouds.

A group of men on horses surround me in a loose circle. Each of them have a weapon in their hand, may it be a gun, dagger, or even a leather whip. Every one of these weapons point straight at me.

My eyes cautiously follow their every move. I feel on edge like I'm about to fall into a canyon but adrenaline is keeping me holding on to the ledge.I feel this adrenaline trickling into my veins and lighting me on fire.

"Who are you and why are you on our land?" A voice asks. To my surprise it is not mocking nor is it unkind. However, I can hear the suspicion laced within it.

"I think I know who she is." A quiet voice says. "Atepa, please hold the light up to her face."

I am blinded by a lantern light. When the spots stop dancing in my eyes I can the person holding the lamp, Atepa is a woman. This surprises me but what surprises me more is that all the faces surrounding me are covered with bandanas. Only their shimmering dark eyes and thick black hair can be seen.

Without even needing to look under their bandanas I know who they are, not cowboys but Indians.

(A.N. I am not trying to be racist or rude this is what the Native Americans were known as during this time)

The man, the one that recognized me speaks in that same soft voice. "That is Ebony Shale. I saw her WANTED posters on one of the redwoods." He falls silent and I feel their dark eyes carefully access me.

"That wasn't me who committed that crime. It was a setup." I offer.

The darkness is so quiet that I can hear the creatures of the night prowling about.

"What are you doing on our land?" The leader finally says after the drawn out silence.

"Traveling to the next town."

"Mm. And why do you run if you are innocent?"

I choose my next words carefully. "Because I am being hunted down as we speak. I need to find a safe place to stay and then I will have the chance to prove my innocence."

The Indians all look at each other, seeming to discuss everything in only a moment and only with their intelligent dark eyes.

"I can read you, Ebony Shale." The leader says. For some reason fear grips at me from this statement. "You are no murderer and have been judged wrong. To right destiny's wrong upon you we will allow you to live among us until justice is finally dealt out. But know that my offer to you is a fragile one."

I hesitate. I don't know these people, I can't be sure if their offer is genuine or if they have a plan to turn me in for the hefty reward over my head.

And so I have three choice, one in which is already ruled out. Turn myself in and try to convince them of my innocence (this is the one I ruled out), try to find a safe place on my own and risk being easily caught, or trust these strangers and risk being turned in.

I always seem to take the riskiest path in this case it's trusting these Indians. My trust is tattered from years of abuse, shall I try to use it again? Or should I risk finding a place and risking having to sneak places for supplies.
To hell with all this indecision.

"I humbly accept your offer, sir."

I can see his teeth flash white in the darkness. "I am no sir nor will I ever be one, Ebony Shale."

He offers me a sturdy hand and I accept it, allowing him to pull me on to his horse.

"Hold on."

I wrap my arms around his muscular torso, I can smell the scent of leather and herbs. It's a pleasant scent, one that for some reason comforts me. All at once I feel like a little girl again clutching on to my father when he first brought me to the desert on his own horse.

"Let us ride."

And so we do.

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