Young Writers Society

James kept a blank face as he got to his feet, wiping off some dirt and leaves.

"It's a good starting point," he said. "We've got nothing but the clothes on our backs. If we're going to travel anywhere - especially near the water - we're going to want at least a little more. Otherwise, things might take twice as long because we'll have to do everything the hard way."

He paused and looked down at the ground. "That, and there will be people there. Though... I'd rather not leave anyone else like Hoss."

"Well if no one else tries to shoot this corpse in the fucking head, that won't be a problem," she grumbled, gesturing at her bandages. She'd have to conserve her blood supply, and she wasn't exactly overstuffed as it was. The healing would take a truly annoying amount of time.

She muttered some colorful words about this as she shoved a branch out of her way and tried to get past it. The stupid, dust-loving bastard came back to slap her. A movement too quick to follow and a flash of steel later, the branch was falling to the ground, and she was sheathing her sword.

"So," she said tersely, "What's this 'fugitive' business all about?"

James looked up at the sky, squinting at the night sky. It didn't feel quite so blinding now that the raging headache had died down, and he could think straight. Or at least, considerably more than he had been able to in a while.

As Kate complained, James figured out his north, his south. The stars were a helpful guide.

When he felt confident in which direction to head, he looked back over at Kate. Poorly timed, that. He blinked slowly and let his gaze drift away.

"Ah. You heard that. Right. Well." He started off going west. "I've been wanted for around three years now for treason. That's the short of it."

Kate raised an eyebrow, "How'd ya earn that little badge of honor?"

If this dumbass world was one where you could get charged with treason for stupid shit like insulting the wrong person or whatever the hell, she was out. Or, she told herself that. If should could be 'out', she would be already.

James felt two thoughts running together simultaneously. One, that Kate was from another world, and she probably wouldn’t care about Moonlight Kingdom Politics. And two, his ever-constant fears of being known and betrayed, and other countless consequences.

But Kate already knew he was wanted, and that there was a bounty on his head. None of that seemed to interest her, unless she was lying and he hadn’t picked up on it. He really hoped it wasn’t that. Kate seemed far too genuine and allergic to bullsh*t to try keeping up that kind of facade for long.

“I... well I stole sensitive information, sabotaged a king’s plans... I used to serve him in the palace guard, and I grew quite close to him before that. So it was very personal.”

She nodded, "Any chance we'll run into this guy while I'm here?"

She didn't want to get in the middle of some cheap-ass drama between sad-drunkard over there and his enemies-to-lovers-3000-word-crack-fic-partner.

James looked over at her. “What? No. King Blackfield is incredibly old. He’d never be found out here, never mind be seen leaving his palace. We’re not even in his kingdom. We’re in lawless territory.”

"Good. Then all we have to deal with is the fucking cartoonish Wanted posters with your face on them we might come across. And bounty hunter or whatever. Do you have those here?"

She'd been bounty hunted before. Of course, that was in school, and just because Connery got the less pathetic kids to track her down for borrowing his annotated copy of the script for the school play. She'd only wanted to drop it in the furnace real quick, but Connery was an impatient bastard.

James knew this was just how Kate talked, but he couldn’t help but feel like, to her, his life was just becoming an inconvenience to her. As if he wouldn’t change it if he could.

“Yes,” he said, stepped over a tree root jutting out of the ground. “Plenty. But let’s hope we don’t run into any.”

"If bullets start flying, I don't really feel pain anymore. Something about my nervous system shutting down or whatever. Point is, don't get shot. Keep what blood you have left inside you."

James glanced back at Kate. He’d almost forgotten, despite the bullet in her head, that Kate was indeed, still a corpse and that the rules of the living didn’t apply to her.

“Only time I think I ever planned on blood leaving my body was when I gave some to you.”

"Which I'm very grateful for," she admitted, "blood deprivation fucking sucks."

She absently put her hand to her jacket, feeling the pocket where the flask of blood was stored. That wouldn't last her long. A couple days, maybe a week if she could ignore the symptoms well enough.

Fuck.

"I can imagine."

The conversation eventually died down when Kate ran out of questions and James ran out of things to say in response. He didn't know if Kate was the kind of person to go mad if silence was prolonged, but with a full night of travel ahead of them, there was no way they were going to be talking the whole time anyway.

James led the way in the darkness, following the guidance of the stars. In moments like this, he was grateful for his years of traveling alone in the wilderness, where he'd learned how to track and navigate through what most people considered to be the middle of nowhere (and it usually was, but when James was there, it was home).

They kept at a steady pace, and by sunrise, they finally came upon a path - carved by horses and widened by wagons - that led to the town up ahead. James made sure the path was clear before stepping out into the open.

"We're close," he said, looking southward. "Should be just another mile or two."

"Good. I assume you don't have any money?" she asked, already planning to lift a coin purse off the first person who happened to be unlucky enough to show her where it was. Or, just, threaten them with a gun. That would work too.

James would need something to eat and somewhere to rest properly, and she would need a scarf or something to cover up this stupid hole in her head. She wished she could go back and kick that guy. Fucking asshole.

James scoffed.

"A little," he said, deciding to leave it at that, because that was truth enough. A little could go a long way if you knew how to haggle, and people were open to haggling (or otherwise, compassionate people, which was more rare in these parts).

As they kept walking the path, the road became more clear of weeds and other foliage, indicating frequent travel. The trees began to clear, revealing houses and fences before they heard any sounds of a bustling town, but that was likely due to the hour. It was still quite early.

That, and it was a small town.

There were two main streets, and a spattering of houses about them. Most homes seemed to have gardens, sheds, or some kind of backyard animals inhabiting them. That much James could tell from the faint smell in the air - not quite manure, but fertilized earth had a certain scent.

He'd passed through this town once before without trouble, so he was hoping for the best.

As they wandered in towards the main road, he noted the few people walking and ambling about. A few of the shops looked like they were just beginning to open.