Ch 01 Feather And A Knife

Author's Note:

This story is the opening Chapter of

West of the End

, published for the

Crime & Punishment 2023

first annual event.

I would like to thank

MediocreAuthor

for her keen eye as my beta-reader, and

LanaN

for offering her editing expertise, you're both so wonderful!

The following Chapter, this Series, and the universe it occurs in overall exists in a dark vein of a Post-Apocalyptic, now Dystopian world overshadowed by fragmented morality, violence, survival and psychologically compelling scenes that may be unsuitable for sensitive audiences.

This Chapter contains elements of violence, homicide, reluctant sexual encounters.

I ask that you please read no further if you are triggered by these topics as described or simply find them unappealing. All scenes depicted are entirely fictional and penned for mature audiences for the purpose of dark entertainment with erotic horror in mind.

Reader discretion is advised.

Applicable Tags

:

Dubious-consent, Coercion, Reluctance, Dystopian Western, Age Gap, Older/Younger, May/December, Virgin, Romance, Male Dom, Female Sub, Oral Sex, Survival, Mild Violence, Homicidal Intent, Novel/Novella length.

© 2023 Seraph Nocturne, All Rights Reserved. Duplication of this literary piece without expressed permission of the author for any purpose is prohibited.

West of the End

Chapter One - Feather and a Knife

The walk from Kershaw-Ryan State Park always helped to clear her mind. Pulling herself away from the presence of the others even for a moment brought her a sense of calm. A moment to reset. To gather her thoughts. To seek peace.

Rose had always been the peaceful one. She would lie on her back in the fields and watch the clouds drift past as if she hadn't a care in the world. She would find happiness in the chamomile flowers, the birds overhead, and the feeling of rain on her skin. She would find solace sitting in a crowded room full of hungry, rowdy fieldhands and drovers, sitting cross-legged in the middle of them. Rose would strum a few chords on her guitar and fill the room with a voice like velvet. One by one, she'd pull them all into her gravity of tranquility. Her sister would have known what to say to her to bring her down from the heights of impatience and the malice that had taken root in her soul.

Fox was not Rose. She felt the raw, unbridled emotions in her core. She tried her best time and time again to sit with Rose and bask in her pacifistic glow. Perhaps have an inkling of Rose's peaceful soul seep over into her. It never seemed to do much. In the last year, Fox became increasingly chaotic. She was angry and restless for more than a few reasons. The most obvious of them was the fact that Rose was

gone

now, and she didn't have any idea where she had been taken or if she was even still alive.

Her jaw clenched as she ripped her thoughts back to the moment. The light of the full moon cast a silvery glow on the road ahead, the terrain dotted with sparse shrubs and trees struggling for life. It was a hellish year. Drought swept through Nevada unlike any year prior, depriving them of the usual winter rains. What had been once a thriving commune of survivors was now reduced to a skeleton occupation.

It wasn't the fault of the drought, though. Hell had thundered through over the steel rails that ran alongside the town. It came swiftly, with no warning.

It came with demons.

When the train had gone, it left a grisly scene of carnage in its wake. Caliente was now a fucking ghost town.

It was a miracle there was anything trickling in Meadow Valley Wash to drink and water the horses with. The survivors who hadn't been hung from light poles or gunned down in the streets, though? All gone. They left not long after Sidewinder's gang returned from establishing a trade route with the nearest viable community... the ones who weren't stolen.

Fox thought about it every fucking day of her life. If she hadn't been off in the wilderness at the time, she'd have been with them. The men, the few protectors who stayed back from Sidewinder's meeting with their neighbors, were all killed. The women were nowhere to be seen. Fox cursed her nature every day since.

She cursed the fact that she couldn't just be content washing clothes in the stream, or tending gardens, or learning to crochet—or any of the other tedious shit they had women doing in her community. If she had, Rose wouldn't have been left alone. They would've been together, at least. The feeling of home and security that had once been here was no more. Fox was certain they were still here for one reason, and only one.

She hardly realized she had stopped walking with the town in sight about a mile ahead. She felt Moxie's head nudge her back impatiently. The palomino mare nickered in her ear, inspiring a smug smirk to pull over her lips that always seemed a tad too big for her youthful face. She turned to look back into the round, deep brown eyes of the mare, who nickered quietly again. "Yeah, alright, we're going..."

Fox took a few more steps forward, then felt resistance on the reins in her hand. Moxie stopped her dead in her tracks and tossed her head, the moonlight reflective on her pale mane. Fox didn't need any more direction from that. Her eyes shifted instinctively to the sidelines of the highway road, and she tugged the reins firmly, the sensuous deep tones of her voice direct as she patted the end of her mare's snout. "Stay here."

She didn't need to move far from the road before she heard the tense rattling from the nearly barren brush along the edge of the roadway. Her lucid green eyes made out the silvery shape of the serpent coiled among the bare branches of a shrub. Fox stopped, slowly reaching down to her thigh to slide one of the steel daggers from the holster at her hip. Her eyes trained on the eyes of the rattlesnake, accustomed to the process of hunting in the dark now. She'd been at it for four years.

Taking a deep breath, Fox's right arm shot forward and delivered the blade with impressive accuracy. The thud of the blade embedding into the ground was pleasant. The rattle fell silent at the precise moment the knife severed the head of the snake, pulling her smirk to a grin. She listened for a few minutes more to see if the rattle would continue before stepping forward apprehensively. Hearing nothing, Fox shifted through the branches carefully and slowly dragged the still body of the rattlesnake from the brush.

She moved for the dagger next, prying it from the earth and wiping the bloodied blade against her thigh. Her eyes dropped to the head of the serpent before she giggled to herself. She had gotten awfully good at that as summer dragged on and much of the deer in the area moved on to areas of better grazing and more plentiful water sources. Fox turned away, her eyes returning to Moxie, who hadn't moved a muscle when Fox directed her to wait.

"Good call, old gal. Big one too! Might even be enough for seconds tonight." Fox felt her spirits lifted as she fixed the body of the dead rattler with the others with twine. It was the largest yet among five other similar specimens she placed into the saddlebag. She had handled them all in the same manner; their heads severed cleanly at the neck. Fox reached up for the horn as she placed her right foot in the stirrup and gave a little jump to pull herself up onto the seat of the saddle. She whistled softly and nudged Moxie gently into a trot, both sets of eyes on the town not far ahead of them.

The harsh scent of char and decay never seemed to leave. It carried downwind long before they entered Caliente and seemed stronger as the echo of Moxie's hooves reverberated in dead silence. Occasionally, the mare's ears would swivel to the sound of shutters beating against the windows of the burned-out buildings. Along the old railroad depot building, she could make out the wooden planks, some thirty or so in two neat rows marking the fallen citizens buried there. She nudged the heel of her boot gently into Moxie's side, and the mare picked up her pace. The sooner they were through the town, the better.

She hated this place now.

They rounded the bend, passing through the neighborhood untouched by the monsters on the train. Not far down the road, she could make out the sign of the motel nestled on the edge and a large fire burning in the dusty lot. The soft nickering of the other horses inspired her mare to bring them quickly back to the safety of the group. Fox counted the heads as she slowly moved to dismount, frowning slightly to herself. Only six? Before she could call out in question, she felt a rough thump against her side, wincing slightly at the force by which the youngster barreled into her.

"Pup,

y'little shit!

Scared me half to death!" The uneasy laughter that followed as she ruffled the eleven year old's tawny brown locks was met with a cheeky grin as he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight.

"You were out late, Ma. I was about to go look for you," the boy quipped, met with a sharp scowl from Fox.

"Even if I'm out all night,

you won't do any such thing.

Did you wash? You smell like you were rolling in a pigpen." She grimaced playfully and turned to undo the throat strap carefully and guide the bridle from over Moxie's ears. Placing her hand beneath the mare's mouth, she waited for her to release the bit before stroking down her snout tenderly.

"Did you catch anything good?" Pup dipped beneath the mare eagerly, pawing at the saddlebags, and Fox rushed around quickly to shoo him away.

"Hey, hands off kid! Nothing but rattlers tonight, and there's a

head

in there, so go sit and wait for supper—no buts!"

The boy opened his mouth to protest before giving an exasperated sigh and darting off to the fire as she carefully placed the western bridle into the empty bag before undoing the straps and hoisting the heavy leather contraption from the flanks of her mount. She placed it over her shoulder and nodded to the horse who watched her intuitively as she started toward the fire. "Don't wander off, Moxie. I'll get your saddle off yet. You won't need it 'til tomorrow."

The gathering of her companions sat in silence. The temperature plummeted as expected after sundown, a sharp contrast to the blaring heat of the day. The chill in the air caused her breath to crystallize. She passed a nod to those who gathered around the fire as she closed the distance, and most of them offered quiet greetings. Bones, Gunner and Maravilla went back to their game of cards. Envy didn't bother looking up from the task he was focused on, skinning a jack rabbit he'd caught that evening. A cast iron pot bubbled over the flames, suspended from a chain attached to a camping tripod. She didn't need to question or guess. They were all hungry and tense. Given the topic of conversation around the fire the last few nights, it was hardly a surprise.

"Yá át tééh."

Smiles broke the silence, and Fox nodded as he offered her his native greeting, touching his chest and extending his hand, palm down. She dropped the saddlebag before him and took a seat on a cluster of blankets piled around their communal space, adjacent to the leader of this little gang. Sidewinder had been watching her since she dismounted. He was quiet. As always.

"Yá át tééh,

Smiles. Rattlers tonight," Fox murmured with a heavy sigh and crossed her legs, drawing her arms from the thick, black wool coat she wore. She carefully placed it aside, enjoying the warmth radiating from the fire, and raising her palms up against it.

"It is very good, then." The tan skinned man was true to his pseudonym. The smile that he passed her and the gracious bow of his head followed a careful adventure into the bag, removing the rattlesnakes.

As if the thought occurred to her at the last minute she spoke hastily, "Careful. Got a lil' present for you while I was out..."

"Oh?" Smiles raised his brows, and once the rattlesnake bounty had been removed, he tilted the bag over the preparation table. The head of one rattlesnake dropped from within, its jaws poised open as if prepared to strike. He nodded with a grin and carefully handled the snake head. "Very nice. Clean severe.

Almost

as clean as my broadheads."

"Yeah, well,

you

go out and nab six rattlers tomorrow night, then, huh? I figured you'd like that... you can tip your arrows with the venom." Fox smirked.

"That would be a painful, horrific death. You know how I feel about that. More your style, isn't it, Fox?" Smiles teased and carefully set the rattler head aside. He swept his long dark hair over his shoulders as Envy came to place the freshly skinned jackrabbit onto the prep table. "I'll extract it for you. Who knows... maybe you can tip your daggers."

"So tired of fucking snakes and rabbits..."

Envy's low grumble accompanied a roll of his eyes as the twenty-something-year-old sulked back to the tree stump and lowered to sit.

The musical laughter of Maravilla pulled Fox's eyes, the lamenting expressions of Bones and Gunner and their groans and curses confirming a common occurrence. Maravilla was the best they had when it came to gambling games. Her golden cheeks were rosy from her several wins and her long, straight black hair was coiled in a loose bun atop her head. She lifted the bottle of sour mash whiskey from the center of their card circle and did a little dance as she drank deeply.

"C'mon boys, y'all catch up or there won't be anything left for you!" Maravilla giggled.

"Well, you're cheating, so..." Bones heaved a sigh and threw his losing hand amongst the discard pile.

"I'm dealing this time. Swear Mara does some magic or something every time she shuffles and that's why she wins." Gunner was the one to collect the cards.

"Hey Ma...

Ma!

Did you see any biters?!" Pup plopped down beside Maravilla. The eagerness and energy of the eleven-year-old never ceased to amaze any of them... a far step from the quiet child he had come to Fox as.

"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. It'll give you nightmares." Fox frowned and set her eyes on the energetic youngster, scribbling shapes into the dusty pavement beneath his worn sneakers with a large stick. "Still—no, Pup... Biters don't come up this way. There's nothin' up here," Fox reassured him firmly.

"Yeah, which makes me wonder

what the hell

we're

still doing here,"

Envy murmured and shot a dead stare at Sidewinder. Fox's gaze shifted to the ornery, slightly older youth perched on the tree stump, who became increasingly agitated since the town was raided. "I'd take

wraiths

surrounding a place worth living in over starving to death in a ghost town."

The silence that fell over the group was unsettling. None of them could deny the harsh but true statement from the young blonde-haired man. There was nothing left here in Caliente to hold on to. Fox's jaw clenched on impulse. It took everything she had to bite her tongue.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to summon a bit of Rose. It seemed anytime Envy spoke, she had to do that.

Take a deep breath. Exhale. Deep breath. Exhale. Try not to punch him in the jaw like the last time he said something stupid...

Smiles made quick work gutting the hare and snakes, stripping the snake skin from their bodies and quartering the white meat. He held the same skillful hand at dissecting the hare at its joints before depositing the meat into the bubbling pot. He added a few fresh pieces of dried wood beneath the fire. There was no shortage of that. He stirred the stew of potatoes, dandelion greens, dried herbs and the last of bone broth and fat rendered from a wild hog he had been fortunate to trap last week. He spoke the quiet blessings he offered in thanks to the Earth for their bounty in his native Navajo tongue to himself.

They set aside their moments of leisure to eat in silence, with Fox's eyes flickering between Envy and Sidewinder as she held her tongue. They'd returned from a trip over a week long down to Las Vegas without a damn thing they had taken to trade; short two horses, tired and hungry.

Fox waited almost a year now. She missed her chance then. She wouldn't miss it again. The community they traded with to the north was off the railroad. They were reserved and peaceful people, but they were willing to take them in. Fox wouldn't hear it.

The anger in her eyes seemed reflective as the fire shone over her fair face. She pulled her long tawny red locks up into a ponytail, loose strands kissing her high cheekbones. As they finished their meals, revisiting the cast iron pot several times until there was nothing left, Bones adjusted his long dark dreadlocks and moved to the small gathering of saddlebags. He took a matte black guitar with a worn strap of dusty red roses from among the items sitting there, blowing sand from the body before he sat and played.

The somber notes of Blend echoed in the darkness. Through the fire, the steely-gray eyes of Sidewinder observed Fox as she struggled with her anger and impatience. He had told her little of the trip to Vegas, because there was very little good to tell, and there never seemed a proper time to give the fiery red-headed woman news she didn't want to hear. He combed a hand back through the waves of his chestnut hair and dropped her gaze for a moment as Maravilla giggled to herself and nudged Pup from dozing off over the steel bowl he had nearly licked clean.

"I'll put Pup to bed in my room tonight. Buenas Noches, amigos... don't stay up too long." The tease of her words pulled Fox's eyes. The giddy, tipsy smile over Maravilla's full mouth inspired a scoff from the spunky red-headed teenager. She might have protested if the young Latina wasn't already lifting the boy carefully into her arms, starting across the lot to the white stone structure of the Caliente Hot Springs Motel.

Smiles nodded, taking that signal, adding a few more pieces of wood to the fire and stretching his long arms over his head. "I'll take your wager on the rattlers tomorrow night, Fox. Good night."

The tall Navajo man retrieved his quiver and the long hunting knife he used to butcher and clean their supper. Slinging a well crafted wooden bow over his broad shoulder, he headed toward the motel as well. It left her with only the core of their gang now. Gunner, the eldest, cleaned his fingernails with a pocket knife. Envy perched beside Sidewinder, his arms tightly across his chest and expression darkly brooding. Bones elegantly strummed his fingers over the strings of Rose's guitar as the frigid night air battled the strength of the large fire between them.

It was seconds before Fox moved to her feet and snagged a fire poker from aside the kindling pile, tugging the chain of the cast iron pot from over the fire and kicking one of the tripod's legs from beneath. "I'll wash tonight—good night gentlemen—"

"Fox—" Sidewinder began, the tension thick enough to slice with a knife.

"Fuck, just let her go before she starts—" Envy started to laugh, catching a sharp glare from both Sidewinder and Fox. Bones grimaced and huffed, halting mid-song, and slowly gathering his things from around the fire.

"Before I start fucking what?!

You assholes went to Vegas for

what?!

Gambling?! Whores?! I thought you went to get help—" Oh, she was fucking starting alright.

"Night guys." Bones didn't wait for a reply. He knew it would be minutes before the scrappy little badass, their 'unofficial leader', riled enough to start kicking people's asses. Envy would be first on that list. He sure as hell didn't want to get on her bad side trying to break it up. Slinging the guitar over his back, the thin light-skinned man quickly headed for the motel.