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Fic: A Walk in the Fog
Title: A Walk in the Fog
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Adora (mention of Ben and Wheelers)
Rating: G
Summary: How hard is it to get to the barn?
Warning: very pre-series, Tin Man!Adora 'verse *Written for the Random Words challenge at writerverse. Prompts: fog, familiar, crazy, rifle, and bruise
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
Adora Springer had never seen such thick fog in the farmlands of the Eastern Guild. Everything had a dull, greyish-brown tinge to it, which wasn't as unsettling as the sound the fog made. Well, she knew the fog didn't actually make a sound, but it did something to the usual sounds of the woods.
Her father would have probably thought Adora was being silly, taking her rifle with her to the barn. But, as she couldn't really see the barn from the porch, and would most likely have the same trouble seeing the porch - assuming she ever managed to find the barn - Adora didn't want to take any chances.
If she couldn't see the treeline, Adora knew damn well that the bears living in the woods wouldn't be able to see it, either.
Having made a trip at least five times a day, Adora was familiar with the path from the porch to the barn. Face just this way as you go down the steps and walk in a straight line. Seventeen steps into the trip, jog left because of the fencepost that marked the chicken coop, then straighten and follow that to the barn.
Adora was about eleven steps in when a noise caused her to stop and turn, rifle raised to her shoulder. She stared into the grey, but nothing happened. Taking a slow breath, she tried to push the slight rush of panic down. After one more moment of listening to the silence, Adora shook her head and lowered the rifle.
"Now you're hearin' things, Springer," she muttered. "Next thing, you'll swear the Wheelers are going to pop out of the ground." Taking another deep breath, she shifted the rifle and turned back. "Armed and crazy, that's you."
Unfortunately, she turned a few inches too far.
Five steps later, Adora's hip slammed against the fencepost and she saw stars and she reached out to support herself. "Sweet damn Ozma," she hissed, taking enough care to make sure she didn't drop the rifle on the ground. She tried to suck in a breath as she leaned forward, but that only hurt more.
Dropping her chin, Adora pulled her arm in and leaned further forward, waiting for the pain to subside.
"Yeah," she gasped, "that's gonna leave a mark." If she was lucky, though, it would only bruise. The last thing she needed was to lose a day of chores because she couldn't keep track of a fence.
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Adora (mention of Ben and Wheelers)
Rating: G
Summary: How hard is it to get to the barn?
Warning: very pre-series, Tin Man!Adora 'verse *Written for the Random Words challenge at writerverse. Prompts: fog, familiar, crazy, rifle, and bruise
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
Adora Springer had never seen such thick fog in the farmlands of the Eastern Guild. Everything had a dull, greyish-brown tinge to it, which wasn't as unsettling as the sound the fog made. Well, she knew the fog didn't actually make a sound, but it did something to the usual sounds of the woods.
Her father would have probably thought Adora was being silly, taking her rifle with her to the barn. But, as she couldn't really see the barn from the porch, and would most likely have the same trouble seeing the porch - assuming she ever managed to find the barn - Adora didn't want to take any chances.
If she couldn't see the treeline, Adora knew damn well that the bears living in the woods wouldn't be able to see it, either.
Having made a trip at least five times a day, Adora was familiar with the path from the porch to the barn. Face just this way as you go down the steps and walk in a straight line. Seventeen steps into the trip, jog left because of the fencepost that marked the chicken coop, then straighten and follow that to the barn.
Adora was about eleven steps in when a noise caused her to stop and turn, rifle raised to her shoulder. She stared into the grey, but nothing happened. Taking a slow breath, she tried to push the slight rush of panic down. After one more moment of listening to the silence, Adora shook her head and lowered the rifle.
"Now you're hearin' things, Springer," she muttered. "Next thing, you'll swear the Wheelers are going to pop out of the ground." Taking another deep breath, she shifted the rifle and turned back. "Armed and crazy, that's you."
Unfortunately, she turned a few inches too far.
Five steps later, Adora's hip slammed against the fencepost and she saw stars and she reached out to support herself. "Sweet damn Ozma," she hissed, taking enough care to make sure she didn't drop the rifle on the ground. She tried to suck in a breath as she leaned forward, but that only hurt more.
Dropping her chin, Adora pulled her arm in and leaned further forward, waiting for the pain to subside.
"Yeah," she gasped, "that's gonna leave a mark." If she was lucky, though, it would only bruise. The last thing she needed was to lose a day of chores because she couldn't keep track of a fence.