FIC: A Little Drop of Poison (Legend of the Seeker, Cara/Kahlan) AU - Prologue/?
Title: A Little Drop Of Poison
Author: Misty Flores
Rating: R
Genre: Legend of the Seeker, Cara/Kahlan - Western AU
Teaser: And so it begins, in the darkest hours of the night, in the company of an old man and a killer, Kahlan embarks on the journey to save the life of her dearest friend, and in the process take on the most dangerous gang of outlaws New Austin has ever seen.
Notes: A LOTS Western AU in a world inspired by the Red Dead Universe. That means guns and cowboys and lots of scoundrels. For anomalys, one of the winners of my offering of fic for the help_japan auction. bk1482, you’ve got a WMC one coming right after this one. Promise.
---
Prologue: By Hook or Crook
"I hear you speak and suddenly
I'm reminded of how the people
I respected most in my life
had a problem with authority."
--
In the wilderness outside of Armadillo, the stars shine brightly against a black sky. Crickets chirp loudly, sounding free and unafraid; safe under the cover of darkness.
Some of the locals have said that the night belongs to the devil, but Kahlan Amnell has never believed that. With the darkness comes a quiet that long ago, she was taught to appreciate. Away from the stench of the unpaved roads of town, the air smells crisp and clean. Kahlan takes a moment to suck it in and lets the frontier seep into her lungs with its chilly familiarity.
It steadies her nerves; gives her balance for what she is about to do.
Cholla Springs, even with its numerous imperfections and constantly shifting landscape, has been her home for a very long time. She is about to leave it, skunking out of town like a common outlaw.
“This is a mistake,” Zedd whispers in her ear. He says it low, but not low enough. Kahlan stiffens, and casts a gaze across the dirt to a deceptively small blonde standing next to a black horse a few feet away. In the middle of steadying her saddle with strong, quick tugs, if Cara Mason hears Zedd’s comment, she makes no indication of it. “Crossing into Mexican territory with a Mord’Sith? We may as well be delivering Richard’s casket, along with our own.”
The old man speaks doubts that are every bit her own. She does not need to be reminded of them.
Kahlan exhales, watches as the puff of condensation dissipates into the cold air. “Zedd, I’m not having this argument again.”
“We can’t trust her, Kahlan.”
It’s Zedd stating the obvious, and it irritates her all the more. “You don’t think I know that?” she hisses, eyes flashing as her grip tightens against her saddled bag.
“There are options -“
“There are no options, Zedd,” she snaps, because it’s true. “There’s not a man within sixty miles of here who’d be willing to go after the Darken Rahl and the Mord’Sith gang, not even for a man like Richard. You know it as well as I do.” Dark eyes look upon her somberly. Zedd has no dispute. She swallows hard, and turns back to her Bay Mare. She shoves hard, pushing at the horse to keep her steady. “I’m the last of my kind, Zedd,” she admits, but her sentimental words do not waver. There’s no time for it here. “And you and Richard are all I’ve known as family. By hook or crook, I’m getting him back, even if it means riding into Mexico with a Mord’Sith bent on vengeance. He’d do the same for me.”
She supposes Zedd sees it, her grim determination, because he expels a heavy, sorrowful breath, like he’s dying, and then gives her a misty-eyed smile that shines in the darkness of the night.
“You’re right,” he whispers sadly, “The two of you are two peas in a pod.”
Over the horn of her saddle, she sees Cara Mason dig a boot into the stirrup and haul herself up onto her Gelding in a quick fluid move that speaks of experience and a lifetime of quick escapes.
She’s a criminal and a killer, and she has no reason to honor her word to Kahlan that she will not run.
Truthfully, Kahlan half expects it.
But Cara does not run. She stays, tugging on the reigns and twisting the horse around until both animal and rider are staring at her with ill-disguised impatience.
“We’re wasting time,” Cara calls out. “Say your good-byes to the Wizard or take him with us, neither makes a difference to me.”
The reminder of her presence makes Zedd’s old leathered face go sour. “Why does she insist on calling me that?” he grumbles, hand on his holster as if by unconscious habit. “I’m a scientist.”
Kahlan doesn’t answer. She saves her concentration for the other woman, who stares at her with an expression that could be easily mistaken for boredom.
Since childhood, Kahlan has had an extraordinary gift - a sixth sense of sorts that allows her to truly read a person, dig deep inside of them and understand their deepest truths.
It has earned her the nickname of ‘Mother Confessor’ around these parts, because, the Sheriff once bragged, Kahlan could get any criminal to confess to anything.
But not a Mord’Sith. Not this Mord’Sith. Kahlan has no idea what the striking woman is thinking, and it runs a chill down her spine.
Zedd lets out a curse, struggling as his own mare steps away from him, nearly tripping as he tries to get his foot in the stirrup. “Hold still, you dang piece of crowbait!” he hollers.
Kahlan watches, before quietly mounting and settling onto the back of her mare. Zedd continues to struggle, and as her eyes flicker to Cara, she notes the tick of frustration, the look of impatience that flits across Cara’s face.
“Zedd,” she finds herself saying, as the old man finally settles astride his ornery horse. “You don’t need to come with us.”
He stares at her, affronted. “I wouldn’t be no kind of a man if I didn’t,” he growls at her. “Two women, traveling alone in these parts? Into the hell that’s Mexico, in the midst of revolution?”
“And what advantage does traveling with an old crow like you give us, Wizard?” Cara tosses out. “Other than your obvious skills in horsemanship, that is.”
The glare he gives the other woman is like a blast of frostbite.
“You and I both know that I can hold my own,” Kahlan interrupts gently, directing his focus towards her. She has a Colt Revolver packed on her hip, a repeater rifle in a satchel against the rigging of the saddle. “And I fear for your safety.”
His look softens into one of tenderness. “And I for yours,” he admits gently. The smile he gives her is sweet; fatherly. Kahlan’s chest tightens with unshed emotion.
She holds it in. There is no time for it. “Zedd-“
“Trust me, for an old coot, I’ve got quite a few tricks of my sleeve. A few even a Mord’Sith should take notice of!” he snarls over his shoulder.
Cara’s look is simple disgust.
Kahlan reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “To the border,” she bargains. “And no further.”
The stranger known as Cara Mason only rolls her eyes, and turns her spurs into her horse’s flanks, pushing into the direction of Rio Bravo and the Mexican Border.
“Sleep with a gun under your pillow tonight,” Zedd murmurs, and follows.
And so it begins, in the darkest hours of the night, in the company of an old man and a killer, Kahlan embarks on the journey to save the life of her dearest friend, and in the process take on the most dangerous gang of outlaws New Austin has ever seen.
She’s a woman, and though she is young and healthy, the West has proven to be a dangerous, unfriendly place.
Men like Richard Cypher are few and far between, and in this quest, she and this outlaw named Cara Mason have proven to be his only champions.
Kahlan takes a breath, and steels herself.
“By hook or by crook,” she breathes, reminding herself of her own dedication, and spurs herself forward into the wild and the unknown.
End Prologue
Chapter One
Author: Misty Flores
Rating: R
Genre: Legend of the Seeker, Cara/Kahlan - Western AU
Teaser: And so it begins, in the darkest hours of the night, in the company of an old man and a killer, Kahlan embarks on the journey to save the life of her dearest friend, and in the process take on the most dangerous gang of outlaws New Austin has ever seen.
Notes: A LOTS Western AU in a world inspired by the Red Dead Universe. That means guns and cowboys and lots of scoundrels. For anomalys, one of the winners of my offering of fic for the help_japan auction. bk1482, you’ve got a WMC one coming right after this one. Promise.
---
Prologue: By Hook or Crook
"I hear you speak and suddenly
I'm reminded of how the people
I respected most in my life
had a problem with authority."
--
In the wilderness outside of Armadillo, the stars shine brightly against a black sky. Crickets chirp loudly, sounding free and unafraid; safe under the cover of darkness.
Some of the locals have said that the night belongs to the devil, but Kahlan Amnell has never believed that. With the darkness comes a quiet that long ago, she was taught to appreciate. Away from the stench of the unpaved roads of town, the air smells crisp and clean. Kahlan takes a moment to suck it in and lets the frontier seep into her lungs with its chilly familiarity.
It steadies her nerves; gives her balance for what she is about to do.
Cholla Springs, even with its numerous imperfections and constantly shifting landscape, has been her home for a very long time. She is about to leave it, skunking out of town like a common outlaw.
“This is a mistake,” Zedd whispers in her ear. He says it low, but not low enough. Kahlan stiffens, and casts a gaze across the dirt to a deceptively small blonde standing next to a black horse a few feet away. In the middle of steadying her saddle with strong, quick tugs, if Cara Mason hears Zedd’s comment, she makes no indication of it. “Crossing into Mexican territory with a Mord’Sith? We may as well be delivering Richard’s casket, along with our own.”
The old man speaks doubts that are every bit her own. She does not need to be reminded of them.
Kahlan exhales, watches as the puff of condensation dissipates into the cold air. “Zedd, I’m not having this argument again.”
“We can’t trust her, Kahlan.”
It’s Zedd stating the obvious, and it irritates her all the more. “You don’t think I know that?” she hisses, eyes flashing as her grip tightens against her saddled bag.
“There are options -“
“There are no options, Zedd,” she snaps, because it’s true. “There’s not a man within sixty miles of here who’d be willing to go after the Darken Rahl and the Mord’Sith gang, not even for a man like Richard. You know it as well as I do.” Dark eyes look upon her somberly. Zedd has no dispute. She swallows hard, and turns back to her Bay Mare. She shoves hard, pushing at the horse to keep her steady. “I’m the last of my kind, Zedd,” she admits, but her sentimental words do not waver. There’s no time for it here. “And you and Richard are all I’ve known as family. By hook or crook, I’m getting him back, even if it means riding into Mexico with a Mord’Sith bent on vengeance. He’d do the same for me.”
She supposes Zedd sees it, her grim determination, because he expels a heavy, sorrowful breath, like he’s dying, and then gives her a misty-eyed smile that shines in the darkness of the night.
“You’re right,” he whispers sadly, “The two of you are two peas in a pod.”
Over the horn of her saddle, she sees Cara Mason dig a boot into the stirrup and haul herself up onto her Gelding in a quick fluid move that speaks of experience and a lifetime of quick escapes.
She’s a criminal and a killer, and she has no reason to honor her word to Kahlan that she will not run.
Truthfully, Kahlan half expects it.
But Cara does not run. She stays, tugging on the reigns and twisting the horse around until both animal and rider are staring at her with ill-disguised impatience.
“We’re wasting time,” Cara calls out. “Say your good-byes to the Wizard or take him with us, neither makes a difference to me.”
The reminder of her presence makes Zedd’s old leathered face go sour. “Why does she insist on calling me that?” he grumbles, hand on his holster as if by unconscious habit. “I’m a scientist.”
Kahlan doesn’t answer. She saves her concentration for the other woman, who stares at her with an expression that could be easily mistaken for boredom.
Since childhood, Kahlan has had an extraordinary gift - a sixth sense of sorts that allows her to truly read a person, dig deep inside of them and understand their deepest truths.
It has earned her the nickname of ‘Mother Confessor’ around these parts, because, the Sheriff once bragged, Kahlan could get any criminal to confess to anything.
But not a Mord’Sith. Not this Mord’Sith. Kahlan has no idea what the striking woman is thinking, and it runs a chill down her spine.
Zedd lets out a curse, struggling as his own mare steps away from him, nearly tripping as he tries to get his foot in the stirrup. “Hold still, you dang piece of crowbait!” he hollers.
Kahlan watches, before quietly mounting and settling onto the back of her mare. Zedd continues to struggle, and as her eyes flicker to Cara, she notes the tick of frustration, the look of impatience that flits across Cara’s face.
“Zedd,” she finds herself saying, as the old man finally settles astride his ornery horse. “You don’t need to come with us.”
He stares at her, affronted. “I wouldn’t be no kind of a man if I didn’t,” he growls at her. “Two women, traveling alone in these parts? Into the hell that’s Mexico, in the midst of revolution?”
“And what advantage does traveling with an old crow like you give us, Wizard?” Cara tosses out. “Other than your obvious skills in horsemanship, that is.”
The glare he gives the other woman is like a blast of frostbite.
“You and I both know that I can hold my own,” Kahlan interrupts gently, directing his focus towards her. She has a Colt Revolver packed on her hip, a repeater rifle in a satchel against the rigging of the saddle. “And I fear for your safety.”
His look softens into one of tenderness. “And I for yours,” he admits gently. The smile he gives her is sweet; fatherly. Kahlan’s chest tightens with unshed emotion.
She holds it in. There is no time for it. “Zedd-“
“Trust me, for an old coot, I’ve got quite a few tricks of my sleeve. A few even a Mord’Sith should take notice of!” he snarls over his shoulder.
Cara’s look is simple disgust.
Kahlan reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “To the border,” she bargains. “And no further.”
The stranger known as Cara Mason only rolls her eyes, and turns her spurs into her horse’s flanks, pushing into the direction of Rio Bravo and the Mexican Border.
“Sleep with a gun under your pillow tonight,” Zedd murmurs, and follows.
And so it begins, in the darkest hours of the night, in the company of an old man and a killer, Kahlan embarks on the journey to save the life of her dearest friend, and in the process take on the most dangerous gang of outlaws New Austin has ever seen.
She’s a woman, and though she is young and healthy, the West has proven to be a dangerous, unfriendly place.
Men like Richard Cypher are few and far between, and in this quest, she and this outlaw named Cara Mason have proven to be his only champions.
Kahlan takes a breath, and steels herself.
“By hook or by crook,” she breathes, reminding herself of her own dedication, and spurs herself forward into the wild and the unknown.
End Prologue
Chapter One