He gave a nod to Colt, and chatted with Hank as they worked. Marcus, like all Olsons since their line started, was happy to help. Ingrained so deeply in his blood that he wasn't sure he could let it out even if he bled his entire self, it would always permeate what he did. The thought settled in him as they ate. In the morning they broke camp and the horses were gathered, the sky already bright and promising another merciless day of Longheat. He swung into Taco’s saddle with practiced ease, settling his weight and letting the familiar rhythm of her breathing ground him, sweat alreaady wetting the line of his hair.
They rode with purpose now, Colt's hope of reaching the cattle by afternoon lending an urgency to the line. The land rolled open before them in wide, sun-washed stretches of grass and stone. Sweat gathered at Marcus’ temples and along his spine, and soaked beneath his horse's saddle and left dark lines down her sidees and belly. Taco seemed ready as ever despite their lack of gates, stretching into her stride, ears pricked forward, eager to eat up the miles.
Seeing how excited Nova was to get to the cattle, Marcus couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth at the sight. That same energy lived in Taco, in the way the paint danced under him, eager and alert. Marcus kept watch as they went, eyes sweeping the slopes and low valleys, mindful of anything that might resolve into a herd. Halo’s endless white felt very far away now, replaced by heat and color and motion, but the work was the same at its core as when they gatheted the luxere.
Marcus rides and keeps a look out for the herd.
They rode with purpose now, Colt's hope of reaching the cattle by afternoon lending an urgency to the line. The land rolled open before them in wide, sun-washed stretches of grass and stone. Sweat gathered at Marcus’ temples and along his spine, and soaked beneath his horse's saddle and left dark lines down her sidees and belly. Taco seemed ready as ever despite their lack of gates, stretching into her stride, ears pricked forward, eager to eat up the miles.
Seeing how excited Nova was to get to the cattle, Marcus couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth at the sight. That same energy lived in Taco, in the way the paint danced under him, eager and alert. Marcus kept watch as they went, eyes sweeping the slopes and low valleys, mindful of anything that might resolve into a herd. Halo’s endless white felt very far away now, replaced by heat and color and motion, but the work was the same at its core as when they gatheted the luxere.
Marcus rides and keeps a look out for the herd.
marcus
a song for a scribbled out name
