Players:Marlowe
Summary: Marlowe leaves town
Date: January 30/31, 1884
Log TitleMarlowe's Run-The Beginning
LocationColorado Mountains
He'd left the Maison at a dead run..no pack, no food..just his guns, the
clothes on his back, and what money was in his pocket. Despite Meriah's
voice calling to him, he dodged into the shadows and was soon making his way
towards a darkened farm.
The stalled horses nickered softly, their ears pricking forward as he slips in
through a loose section of boards and to a fine looking black stallion, who
nuzzled at him.
The 'breed laid his face against the horse's neck and wept hot, silent tears,
before saddling him, and wrapping burlap around the shod hooves before
leading it out the doors. Nor does he mount immediately, walking the stallion
slowly to the edge of the property, before vaulting into the saddle and
thumping the horse's side with moccasinned heels, headed south.
All through that night, the brooding Marlowe rode, despite the bitter cold,
the wind. Keeping off the main trails, he rode a faint path through the
mountains, not even pausing as the sun made it's tenuous way up in the
southeastern sky.
Not until it reached it's zenith, did the 'breed take a pause, stripping the
saddle and blanket from the wearied horse. Hobbling the great beast, and
staking him to a long picket rope, the 'breed made a dry camp, without a
fire or food and sat huddled in his heavy buffalo skin coat, unable to sleep
as the horse grazed.
The moon was up when he awoke. Exhaustion, a dangerous enemy in the
winter mountains, had taken it's toll, and he had fallen asleep, huddled under
the heavy coat. What had aroused him was the black's angry snorting and
whistling. The stallion's hooves pounded the ground as he reared and pawed
the ground, shaking his head at the underbrush.
The 'breed's gaze followed the horse's, the cold blue eye narrowing. Rising
with a hint of stiffness, he pats the disturbed animal on the neck, speaking
softly, calming the beast. Then, he turns to the underbrush, and speaks in
Cheyenne, 'Ho. Tsan-ska-yan. Come out my brother, and visit with us."
It was not a human form that slunk from the brush, rather it was a lean and
hungry looking gray wolf..a large lobo, his head held low and yellow eyes
fixed on Marlowe. The 'breed reaches out a hand and scratches the animal
behind the ears, to the great consternation of the horse, who pitches about
in a crowhop.
Marlowe holds the fierce head in both hands, looking into the yellow eyes,
speaking softly in the old tongue. 'It is good to see you, my Brother, who
has never deserted me. Now, I must seek your company and help once more,
as it has always been." The man touches foreheads with the wolf, and
another racking sob shook his frame. The old lobo pulls back to loll a long wet
tongue over Marlowe's cheek, cocking it's head to one side as though
listening. Unspoken words pass between man and beast, and the old wolf
turns, padding back into the brush.
Marlowe returns to the horse, and calms him again, giving the beast the
wolf's scent on his hands, 'This one, Nightwind, is a friend. Do not fear him,
for we shall travel long together."
The wolf returns shortly, a thin rabbit in his jaws and drops it near the man
and horse, sitting back on his haunches looking pleased and smug. Marlowe
thanks him gravely, and squats to skin out the rabbit, eating the warm flesh
raw as the wolf extends a nose towards the horse, sniffing.
The horse did not like it, not one bit, but after a time, he too extended his
nose and whuffed loudly at the wolf, who jumped back with a start, startling
the stallion as well.
The 'breed then saddles and puts a hackamore on Nightwind, mounting with a
leap. The unlikely trio heads south once more, dark shadows on a high, faint
trail.
