Turbinio

Chilean Wine

You opened the packet of quills that Diego had brought from Milwaukee. Swan feathers are finer and stronger than ordinary goose feathers. You smiled vaguely at the sight of them, a not-so-subtle reminder that he had you in mind when he went to buy them.

However, if Diego expected that this would settle his bet debt, he was mistaken. You took out your small penknife, engraved with your monogram, which you always carried with you, and slowly sharpened the tip of the quill to your liking, mentally composing what you wanted to say. When you dipped the quill in the ink, the words were clear in your mind and you wrote quickly, with hardly any pauses.

To Reverend Innes Duncan.

''Dear Reverend, I write to inform you of a recent occurrence which has much absorbed my attention. Maybe it doesn't mean anything to you, but it has put me in a terrible dilemma.''

The details of your affliction and the last time you saw Diego followed in the form of delirium, but you found yourself choosing words as you looked ahead, seeing the figure of Gyro throwing wood to the fire of the camp they had set up.

''If I'd known you were going to catch up with us, I wouldn't have taken that damn shortcut.'' The Italian complained shortly after telling that the day before he and Johnny had been followed by a pack of wolves. Your answer materialized in a silent smile.

''Diego says he's running out of options.'' You continued to write. ''He seems to be discovering more and more things as he works for the president. I feel useless, Reverend. I feel I should tell Gyro Zeppeli and Johnny Joestar everything I know, as I'm sure it would be useful to them. I could do that, but I can't help but dread their reaction when they find out I'm still in contact with Diego Brando. But I have nothing to lose. I don't have a home, I don't have land, I don't have a family... But I have a mule, a cat and two friends. I'm not willing to betray their trust, but I feel that I'm getting closer to having a friendly relationship with Diego, despite the death threats. I don't think he would really do what he says; I feel like he's just trying to convince himself that he's capable of killing me in cold blood. But he knows he's not. He has no reason to either.''

You stopped, now seeing Johnny's figure in the wind, wild as a deer and as comfortable in the snow as one.

''It could be, of course, that he is planning to kill me, although it doesn't look like it. Why do I still talk to him? Gyro and Johnny are much more reliable and safer.''

You stopped writing again and gently bit the tip of the quill, tasting the ink. You grimaced at the bitter taste, got up and spat in a corner outside your wagon. You stood there for a moment, watching the two men. When they found you a few hours ago, they didn't hesitate to offer you some company. You continued writing a few more lines slowly while giving form to the thought, ''I don't want to make this dilemma I'm in officially known''. Drawing attention to your actions worthy of being called a betrayal was dangerous; the chance of disappointment was too great.

But the knot of anticipation and anxiety was there the entire time in your stomach.

''Guys,'' you said loud enough for both men to look at you as they put away the empty meat cans. ''I saw Dio two days ago, I figured this might be of interest to you.''

Johnny frowned over the single glass of Chilean wine that was all he would accept in terms of drinking. He hadn't tasted it yet, even though lunch had been over for some time.

''What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?'' Gyro, as expected, started the interrogation. ''Did he attack you?''

''No, actually... he... he didn't attack me. He seems focused only on the two of you and the race. He is usually friendly with me.''