Caught in the Fisherman's Bend [Benn Beckman x Fem!Reader]

Night 2

"Hopper! Hoooopper!..... Y/n!"

You flinched and looked guiltily over your shoulder.

"Hopper..."

You wiped your eyes and stared down at Dad. He sighed, then he climbed up the rocky slope and squatted down behind you.

"Again?"

You whimpered and hid your face against your knees. Strong hands reached out and pulled you back against a firm chest. You shuffled around until your face was pressed into Dad's rough work shirt. You breathed in the fiery scent of The Pit. Soot smeared across your cheeks. He must have come off the Spits to find you. You whimpered again at the thought of getting Dad in trouble for leaving his shift early.

"Shhh. It's okay, kiddo. It's alright."

"Aji's gunna call me a crybaby."

You felt his chuckle more than you heard it.

"Probably. But only after she's gotten scolded for beating up the other kids again."

You rubbed your snotty nose and then wiped your hand on your too-small pants. A finger tilted your chin up and you blinked into Dad's warm eyes.

"I think it's about time for dinner," he said, "Shall we go down?"

You sulkily nodded your head. He ruffled your hair and then hoisted you up into his arms, and then over onto his back. Even though you were tall enough to reach his shoulders, he could still toss you around like a feather; him and Pops both.

"I think I can find some alligator-duck jerky in the kitchen. Would you like that?"

Your chin fell to rest on his shoulder as he began climbing down the ridge. You nodded against the side of his head.

"How do you even find these places?" Dad mumbled as he skidded down a small slope.

The Tannery filled the valley far below. The smokestacks rose like little sticks, the people scurried like ants. A bright light twinkled up at you from the center of the nest of spits, winking cheekily, like you were in on the same joke.

"It was warm," you mumbled into his shoulder.

"Warm?"

You felt his arms stiffen around the back of your knees. You lifted your head and looked back over your shoulder. The barren peak of rock you'd ran away to loomed large against the sky in the fading light, like a friend watching you leave.

"I could see the Pit from there," you tried to explain.

Dad was silent for a while as he navigated down the rocky trail. You were suddenly overcome with exhaustion and dropped your head to his shoulder again. His low voice followed you softly into sleep.

"You keep following that spark calling you, kiddo. We'll just have to leave the rest to Luck."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke with a jerk. It was a habitual action. When sleeping in a hammock, you always woke with motion. Usually, the sway of the hammock would complement your movements and lull you gently into awareness. But today, the fabric was hard and unyielding under your shoulders. Your back was stiff and aching. Your arm was itchy...