Briar Rose:
Briar Rose smiled. "Yes ma'am," she agreed. "Um...I am Briar Rose and this is..."
Uh-oh, do I introduce him as 'El Hueso' or as Ramon? Well...now's not the time to be threatening, right? "This is Ramon. Can I pet your horses?" she asked hopefully.
Tatterdemalion:
Through a tangle of trees and bushes, Tatterdemalion could barely make out the forms of three horses. Two of them bore riders, the third, packs. A large tree blocked the people they were talking to, but the one that spoke had a small voice almost like...like a
child. The third horse tossed its head, and Tatterdemalion felt an electric jolt run through her. The black horse had a lovely, shapely head, and a long, wavy mane like a waterfall of obsidian.
Is that Gwen
?! It almost has t' be, doesn't it? Anna and Mark had three black Frisian horses. All beautiful, but Gwen was fairest of all in Tatterdemalion's eyes. She wasn't close enough to hear voices clearly, but what were the odds of any
other survivors having horses like that?
A rattle of cans, from higher up the hill. "Fuck," a voice hissed. Someone had set off one of the 'traps' she'd set around the boundaries of 'her' forest, to warn her of the approach of others. Unfortunately, they were coming from within the boundary. In a deft movement, she ducked to the other side of the tree she'd been using to give herself cover from the road, and started to reach for her bow.
"Don't," another voice said in a hiss, pitched so it wouldn't carry over distance. Tatterdemalion snapped her head to the sound, seeing nothing at first. Then, movement. A hulking shape with dangling tendrils, like some swamp monster, emerged from the trees. A rifle in its hands, pointed at her. It took her a moment to recognize the form as a man in a ghillie suit. "Got her," he hissed again. Down the hill came several more men with rifles, dressed in hunting camouflage.
"This your work?" one of them said with a smirk, holding up a length of twine that dangled an acorn-shaped fairy house carved from wood and shingled with pine cone pieces. "Figured this'd be a chick's doing. Not too bad lookin' either," he said, raking his eyes up and down her body.
"Oooooh, so it's
entertainment ye seek from Tatterdemalion," she said, twirling like a ballroom dancer, careful to stay out of arm's reach. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she kicked herself for the subtle falter in her voice. With a flourish, she reached for her belt and drew, not her sword, but her wooden flute, presenting it with a beaming smile she didn't feel as the men tensed and raised their rifles. "What good to ye is a dead Tatterdemalion?" she asked, shaking her head. "No one's makin' bullets anymore lads. Any that ye use on me, are bullets ye'll wish ye had later, that I promise." One of them reached for her, but she danced teasingly out of reach, giving him a fey grin.
If this is goin' t' be me last act, I'm glad it's about savin' friends, she thought, steeling herself for whatever lie ahead.
She raised the flute to her lips.
"Don't," the man with the ghillie suit said again. "You think if you draw some walkers, you'll have a chance to get away?" he sneered. The lens of his rifle's telescope glinted, merciless as a black widow's eye.
"Oh no," Tatterdemalion purred. "The ghouls are clumsy in the hills, stay mostly on th' roads." She continued to move and turn, making the men fan out to hem her in--but most importantly, keeping their attention. She started playing the opening notes of Loreena McKinnit's
The Highwayman. Anna and Mark would know the song; the men probably wouldn't. With luck, the Raynes would get the message: oppressors with guns threaten those who ride along the road. As she played, it hit her that she was in the role of the captured innkeeper's daughter...for whom the tale did not end well.
Briar Rose:
"What's that?" Briar Rose said as a haunting, mournful melody came down from the hills as if blown on the breeze. She might have been captivated by its beauty, if it did not sound so much like tragedy.