Priorities

sons could be birds,
taken broken up to the mountain

No Outlander chose to come to Caido. But Nathaniel and the other Naturals were still stuck with them. A part of him wanted Adam to say something stupid, to argue, but he didn't, and Nathaniel wasn't really angry enough to keep going, anyway. He was tired. Tired of this shithole he'd been born into, of these strangers who were better than him, of — everything, really.

Too tired to say no to the Outlander.

Inwardly, Nathaniel winced as the strange man skipped up beside him. He felt a thousand years too old for this, certain he had just made the worst decision in a long line of bad ones. "It's a long walk," he said, though whether he meant it as a warning or not was unclear even to him. They would have to walk some way into the fields before they came upon the cabin with its back to the trees. The spot was secluded and out of the way on purpose, even if it was a little too near the barrier.

Nathaniel wondered if he could get by on ignoring the question about the dog. Probably not. Normally, he just called her The Dog and nobody asked about a name because she was a farm animal. But Outlanders had weird customs and probably kept housepets. "Her name is Teacup," he said flatly. "She's for protecting the chickens." So don't bother her, was the implied follow-up. She also spent a fair amount of time keeping an eye on Nate, and far less time barking at whatever strangers wandered their way. She would undoubtedly be fond of Adam. Which was annoying.

"If you want to stay, you will have to pull your own weight," Nathaniel said as they left the outskirts of the settlement behind. He was beginning to realize he had actually done this. "What are you good at?"

"That's fine! I got long legs. I do fucking miss my horse, though." Adam said, far too chipper, as he walked alongside Nate. He quite like that Nate's house was out of the way, though he wouldn't tell Nate why: if he had to go into hiding for any reason, it was always better to have somewhere out of town. Teacup. The name was so surprisingly cute for this man that Adam couldn't help the bubble of laughter that rose from him, the raising of his eyebrows. He said no actual words on it, but it was clear he found the name choice amusing. He was also sure that the dog wouldn't be guarding the chickens constantly, so there would be plenty of times for ear rubs. Adam was good at plenty of things, but none of them very related to housework or chickens. Still, he did have a great talent for selling himself. "Oh, loads. I'm a real goddamn good shot, can ride any horse you give me for miles, can climb any wall in about five seconds flat...and hey, buddy. Hate to tell you this but you ain't the sweetest talker in the world. How about you let me do your talkin', your haggling? I'll get you better deals on whatever the fuck it is you do...and what is it? That you do?" ADAM maybe i'm my own greatest fear maybe i'm too scared to admit that i might not be as dark as i think maybe i'm not the person that i never wanted to be

sons could be birds,
taken broken up to the mountain

Nathaniel doesn’t mind the chipper, really. It will never be his style, but if chipper were all Adam was, they might be off to a better start. Nate glances up at the mention of a horse, visibly surprised to find this Outlander is capable of caring about anything enough to miss it. “You had a horse?” he asks, genuine interest making its way into his voice. He’s pleased to receive no complaints about the walk, as well, if perhaps a little let down to learn it’s no deterrent.

They’re going to be roommates. At least for a day or two.

“We have horses here,” says Nate, his tone picking up just slightly. “I don’t, but some of my neighbors do. You might be able to trade for one.” Nathaniel has never been very fond of the little animals. He’s too big really for Rory’s ponies, but they’re too big to be easily picked up and moved, and anyway, chickens are more useful.

Fortunate they are both long-legged, because the walk moves quickly, the fields running past underfoot. Nathaniel is reasonably sure it won’t be too much longer until they see the cabin in the distance, the wooden structure dark against the darkness of the trees at its back, Teacup maybe a pale blot of grey on the new spring grass. But he listens with some interest to Adam’s strange resume, an eyebrow quirked at some of the mentions. “You like haggling? Go ahead.” A crooked sort of smile makes it onto one side of his mouth. “I trap animals for fur. Skin them and trade the hides to people who are good at making them wearable.” Nathaniel can sew, to an extent, but gets frustrated by the tedious art too quickly to do it unless absolutely necessary. He’s better at skinning and stretching and all of the other work that goes into preparing fur for wear. Or whatever else — sometimes there are doe skins for the leather worker. Plenty of meat to cure well before Longnight.

“If you’re a good shot, you’ll be useful,” Nathaniel adds thoughtfully, though he’s picturing a much more rudimentary weapon than Adam’s pistol. “Sounds like you’re not as unprepared as some Outlanders. Just try not to get into trouble.” Fairly certain this particular warning will go unheeded, Nathaniel eventually lifts a hand to point out the small building just visible in the distance. “There’s the cabin. The dog is… probably around here.” She liked to wait until he wasn’t paying attention and then barrel into his knees at full force. He kept a wary eye out, not eager to be knocked on his ass in front of this stranger.

"Hell yeah. Flash. Great horse. ...I hope he's alright." Taken on by a stable hand with plenty of oats and a gentle hand, he hoped. Adam couldn't face the likely reality, that Flash was dirty and lost at the side of the road, wondering where he'd gone. Nate suggesting he take another horse was unintentional salt in his wounds, a reminder that he wasn't going to see his hooved best friend again. "...Maybe, yeah." Skinning animals wasn't the most....glam career, but furs were easy enough to sell. Warm, luxurious...a bit too bulky and covering for Adam's taste, but a required part of many people's wardrobes. "I can do that. Sell your furs." He smiled and rested a hand on his pistol as Nate commented on his shooting. He could get by with a bow and arrow too, though he didn't care much for them. Too slow, too easy to fuck up. His guns had been an upgrade he'd made several years ago and had never gone back from. Now that he had a limited amount of bullets, though....maybe he'd have to make a change. Adam looked about excitedly for the promised dog, planning to scratch it's ears regardless of Nate's warnings. "How come you live so far out?" ADAM maybe i'm my own greatest fear maybe i'm too scared to admit that i might not be as dark as i think maybe i'm not the person that i never wanted to be

sons could be birds,
taken broken up to the mountain

Flash. Nate can't help but smile at the fondness in Adam's voice. "Animals are better at looking out for themselves than we are." His voice is flat as ever, a monotone rumble, but he means it as a comfort. His eyes are up as he speaks, searching for the dog. She is as good an example as any: outside most of the time, patrolling their space, babysitting chickens, giving alarm should anyone venture close. She doesn't appear until they've made it up near the cabin. Then she's a ringing bark, a sudden blur of grey fur and mud, rocketing toward them only to pause several paces away, her deep voice echoing in her chest. "There she is," says Nate, paying no mind to the barking. He casts a glance at Adam, curious to see if the Outlander is as good with dogs as he says. Teacup is big, but not dangerous. Loud, but generally not prone to biting. She moves up warily to sniff at the newcomer, her tail waving slowly.

"You'll have to watch out for the chickens," Nate says as he moves up toward the house. "The hens aren't mean, but the rooster's a bastard." The hens could be mean, if he thought about it. They'd pecked him enough times when he was younger. He bounds up the steps to stand on the porch and turns to blink at Adam. "This is it, though. Pretty small." He tilts his head a little in response to the question. He had assumed the answer he preferred was obvious, though perhaps not. "Because I don't like people," Nate says, his tone suggesting he has no desire to continue that line of conversation. The truth is a lot more complicated than that, involves things about his family he prefers not to mention, things about himself he wants everyone to forget. Wants to forget, himself, as well.

The best way to move conversation on is to pretend it is already moving on, Nate decides. He ducks inside, throwing his new purchases into a corner. The cabin was clearly meant to house few people — maybe a couple, at most. Nate never learned if the previous occupant had a wife. Most of the space is taken up with clutter: evidence of his trade, an inexplicable abundance of potted plants, a chicken who ought not be inside but which is nonetheless foraging around the floors. Nate frowns at it. "You don't actually have to sleep on the porch," he calls over his shoulder. Maybe that's too friendly. He feels more at ease, though, in his own home, and Adam is surprisingly easy to get along with. For an Outlander. So far. "There's a spare room in the back. I use it for storage, but you could probably fit. Try not to mess with anything."

As soon as Adam saw the dog his face broke out into a wide grin and he knelt down, holding his arms out wide to welcome her. As she came close he would try to pet her head, scratch behind her ears. "Hey, Teacup. You're a real pretty girl, huh?" Standing up (but still reaching down every so often to stroke at his new best friend) he followed Nate up to the house, turning around to look at the place as a whole once they reached the porch. He wasn't scared of chickens, that was for sure. Nate, though...the thought did pass Adam's mind that he could be some kind of murderer. Lived by himself out in the woods, monotone voice....didn't like people...ah well. If he was going to be murdered, at least it'd make a good song after his death. He immediately followed Nate inside, no intention whatsoever of sleeping on the porch (but he did still smile when Nate confirmed he wouldn't). "Aw, you're warming up to me already, see! Before long I'll be in your bed, ey?" It was unclear if this was an innuendo or not, Adam not providing any kind of clarification. ADAM maybe i'm my own greatest fear maybe i'm too scared to admit that i might not be as dark as i think maybe i'm not the person that i never wanted to be

sons could be birds,
taken broken up to the mountain

Well, Adam did seem to know his way around animals. Satisfied he was not a threat, the big dog accepted his greeting in her dignified way before following them up to the cabin, always obligated to inspect new developments. She paused outside the door and sat on the porch, her domain ending at the threshold. At least during the daytime.

Nathaniel, of course, had no idea about Adam's reservations. He was preoccupied with his own reservations about the Outlander, though he felt much better now he was home with his dog. Away from everything else, everyone else, all the complicated thoughts the settlement brought rushing back to him.

As for Adam — who... well, might still cause him trouble later, but who seemed all right, so far. It was oddly pleasant, having someone else to talk to. To explain things to. To share things with. Nate had maybe been living along a little too long, to find this so novel and so pleasant, but Adam was right — he was warming up.

Though he was not about to admit it.

With a snort, Nate glanced over his shoulder at the other man, but did not dignify the question with a reply. He had no intention of getting that close to anyone, much less a random Outlander he'd picked up in the marketplace. Much less someone he'd known for a scarce couple of hours.

Nate moved out of the way, into the front space which was sort of a living room. Content to watch Adam explore the small space by himself, but also careful to keep a watchful eye on the stranger. He was not comfortable enough to sit, but his posture betrayed that he was more at east than he had been. At last Nate spoke, his voice still entirely level. "I didn't always live alone. If you're as useful as you say, it might be a good thing, having you around."