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ganymede-princess · 3 months

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The Craving | Jack Conroy

PART 2

ship: Jack Conroy x fem!OC

warnings: mentions of death, brief description of healed frostbite

summary: Jack meets a musher girl on his first day in Alaska.

word count: 2826

a/n: I am actually extremely proud of this so I hope somebody reads it haha

written by @ganymede-princess

Living in the Yukon, you get used to craving. You crave warmth, food that doesn’t come from a can, a bed with a real mattress and a roof over it, the sight of a fresh face and fresh conversation. I had been out there for nearly seven years by the time I met Jack Conroy, and nearing my seventeenth birthday too. I stood at the edge of our camp, watching the prospectors stumble out of the narrow passage at the top of the pass, like rats spewing from a drainpipe. He caught my eye then, beet-red and fresh of face, dressed warm, but not warm enough, his eyes glazed with exhaustion and wonder. He reminded me of myself the first time I climbed the Golden Staircase, back when snow still glittered like pixie dust, and my father’s promise of a gold seam to call our own didn’t ring hollow as the wind through an empty mine. I knew Conroy instantly; the mirror of his father, the man who raised me better than my own. I kept my head down as he looked around, knowing he was there for Alex, but not wanting to face it. The Yukon would turn that boy hard as ice before long, and I didn’t want to watch it happen.

As he traipsed over to us, I crossed my arms and glared at him. Go home, Conroy. I thought. Go shack up somewhere warm, and be happy. He didn’t look at me once, so consumed with his mission. I shielded my face and retreated to the tent. The coffin was easier to face than Alex breaking his heart. Despite my reluctance, I knew I would not have minded taking him on. There were few young people so far into the mountains, except the few kids at the Tlingit village along the trail, but we never stayed long enough to get to know them. The boy could become my companion, of sorts. We would take him north-west from Dyea to Klondike, then set him loose to find his way to the Conroy claim to spend a few months frantically digging into the hill; and go home colder, hungrier, and poorer in spirit. I wouldn’t even have to see it break him. Alex wasn’t like that. He was a pragmatist. He and Skunker knew how to mush, and they took me on because I was the best scout you’d ever need, thanks to my daddy’s training. This boy was a city slicker, and the best he could offer the team was a morale boost, and Skunker was already too cheerful for Alex’s liking. We couldn’t take him. He’d be a dead weight. I tried to close my ears to his charming, eager voice as he tried to butter up old Larson. Soon enough, Alex stepped into the tent and nodded for me to help him lift the coffin. I set my teeth and heaved it. ‘Heavy’ doesn’t begin to cut it.

“Who’s in there?” Conroy asked, puffing a white cloud as he tried to catch his breath.

“Name’s Dutch.” Alex caught my eye and nodded in acknowledgement. I said nothing.

As sweet as his cold, dead daddy, Jack Conroy helped me lift the box. He waffled on in a voice tense with effort, about maps and letters, and gold dust in an envelope his father sent him on his deathbed. My heart ached at the thought of kind old Scotty, dying alone in his claim with that grey lump of diphtheria in his throat. We found him frozen one winter a few years past, and I left a bundle of purple lupines on his grave. My eyes started to burn and something in my throat thickened as I finished tying up my corner of the sled. I pushed past Jack to tie his side. He stumbled, his shoes struggling for purchase on the packed snow. Wolfish fury passed over his face as he regained his footing, then he calmed and went back to pleading his case.

“Everybody finds a little gold dust.” Alex assured him. “That’s what keeps you digging. But you have to strike it, and your father didn’t. Go home and find a regular job. You wouldn’t last a day out here.”

Something odd happened then. I caught the boy’s eye, still glimmering with hope, and realised three nuggets of truth at once: one; this boy was no stranger to craving adventure, glory, and a namesake, but craving food, craving heat? He had never wanted for these things in his life. Two; he had that grit in his teeth that showed the true conviction of his words. He would try to journey to the Conroy claim, with or without our help. And three; I had never known craving until I craved him.

“I’m a good worker, and I just want what’s mine.” He insisted, his soft voice strained in earnest as he trailed Alex’s heels. “I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

“Skunker!” I slapped the old man’s feet, sending him thrashing into wakefulness. You better back me up here you stinkin’ old bastard.

“Damn, what is it?” He exclaimed, limbs flailing as he leapt to his feet. “Alex!” He breezed past both Jack and me, still dazed with one foot in a fancy. “I was dreaming you, me, and Dutch was livin’ it up in Frisco! ‘Lil Quinn at a real college, the works!”

“Get the dogs ready.” Alex said coldly. This was his way.

“I hope Dutch appreciates this ride.” Skunker bemoaned, ignoring Alex’s crotchety comment and making no attempt to hide his annoyance for my sake. I damn well agreed with him. “‘Cause you shoulda died at your digs!” He hit the coffin with his fist. “Saved us a trip back.”

“Are you going near my father’s claim?”

“Scott Conroy’s son!” I called after Skunker. He turned on his heels, a half sceptical look on his face.

“What? Lemme see that face, kid.” He got up in the boy’s face and grabbed him by the chin, inspecting him close with beady eyes. Jack held his breath against the smell. “My God, Alex, he’s the spittin’ image of his old man! And I knew ya pa well. Clarence Thurston.”

“Jack Conroy.” Skunker slapped him into a frenzied handshake.

“You throwin’ in with us?” I knew I could trust old Skunker to have my back. I didn’t even have to plead a case for him.

“Yeah, I’d like to.”

“No.” Alex said simply. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

“No? You’re taking him with you and you’re not gonna take me? He looks half dead already!”

I giggled. The first laugh I’d had since my daddy kicked the bucket. I slapped a mitten over my mouth to hide it and slipped away to wake up the dogs while Skunker bartered some gum out of him as an apology. Our wheelers, Fritz and Fatty, stirred and wagged their tails as I ran my hands through their fur, whining and baring their teeth in greeting.

“Hey, don’t worry about him.” Skunker assured him, waking up Digger and George, our swing team. “He’s just tired, that’s all.”

“Yeah, or he knows there’s gold out there and wants it for himself.”

“Woah, boy! You got the harness on the wrong dog.”

“Conroy.” I spoke up, meeting his hostile stare and forcing a calm over my body despite how flustered I felt. “If there’s one man you can trust in this damn place it's Alex Larson.”

He scoffed, seeming to ignore my words entirely, and rounded on Alex.

“Listen, if you don’t wanna take me, I’ll go by myself. I’ll get rich by myself too.”

“I think he’s crazy enough to do it Alex!”

“Skunker’s right.” I left the wheelers and sidled up beside him. “The Yukon will swallow him whole, we gotta take him.”

“Quinn, we can’t take him just because you think he’s cute.” Alex put on a shit-eating grin and tapped my arm with his glove.

“It’s not jus’ that.” My face heated up, but I saw no sense in denying it if it was already that obvious. “He’s got a musher’s spirit in him, even if he is green as snow peas, and I don’t wanna find him dead in the woods come summer and know we killed him.”

“Come on, Alex, he’s Scott’s boy!” Thank you Skunker! “Look at him, huh? How much trouble could he be?”

He cast a final sceptical glance at Jack, but conceded. Skunker winked. I stared him down for a second, admiring the swoop of his dark blonde hair, then let my lips twitch into a curt smile.

“I’ll take you as far as Klondike. Fall behind, and I’ll leave you where you drop. Understand?” Alex was all talk, as usual. Even if he wasn’t, he would realise soon enough that leaving this boy in the snow would mean signing two death papers at the Klondike post office.

“Yes, sir.” Jack beamed. At the sight of his smile, I felt the craving stir again, paired with a healthy portion of despair. I knew a virile young man like that would never make do with a musher girl who had lived amongst men so long that she had nearly become one, and often felt more dog than person; but to travel beside him for a while would be a gift.

Alex retreated to the tent to nurse his regret, and Skunker went out to the tuck tent to get some minced meat for the dogs. I went back to playing with the pack, settling beside them and letting the six team dogs crowd around me and vie for my attention. Jack came to sit beside me, eying me as cautiously as the dogs. The thin, agouti bitch who laid at the edge of the group got to her paws and came to watch him with her ice blue eyes. Her body was relaxed, though she let out a deep rumble

“Connie.” She turned her ear to me, but kept her eyes hard on the boy. “He’s a fine boy, he won’t hurt me. He’s Scotty’s boy.” Her ear twitched back up at Scott’s name. “Heel, Connie.” She stepped over to me, eyes always trained on Jack. “Sit now, girl.” She did. I reached over and laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder, stroking it like I would a dog. “Now do the same to me.” His eyes flickered to me, hesitant, but he did as I said. Connie cocked her head, then pinned her ears back and wagged her tail. “See girl, he’s alright.”

“Can I touch her?” His voice was full of wonder.

“You have to ask her. Give her your fist. Gentle now.”

Slowly, he raised his fist to her. Their eyes met. Connie froze, and for a long moment I thought she might bite him, but then her body relaxed and she licked his hand, then his arm, and soon she had climbed all the way on top of him to lick his chops. He giggled and squirmed under her weight and collapsed onto his back.

“Connie! Settle down, girl, he ain’t for eatin’! I know he looks tasty.” I wrapped my arms around her middle and lifted her off him.

“Thank you,” He puffed, clambering off the snow. “Um…”

“Quinn.” Meeting his eyes was almost painful. They were so blue, like a clear day when the sky reflects on the snow so bright it’s almost blinding.

“Ah, thank you, Quinn.”

I looked away and stroked down Connie’s hackles. Setting my teeth together to keep from chattering. Nerves make the cold so much harder to bear.

“How’d a girl like you wind up out here?”

“You noticed, huh?” I raised my eyebrows. “Not many folks do these days. I got used to being called ‘son’ years ago, on account of my boyish charms.” To his credit, Jack chuckles, though I was sure that must have been the first joke I’d told anyone but Connie-dog. “Doesn’t help having a boy’s name, neither.”

“I think Quinn’s a fine name for a girl.” He said it earnestly enough that I managed to spare a glance at him. “And I knew you were a girl as soon as I saw you.” I said nothing, only squished some snow between my fingers to hide my squirming. I almost wished he hadn’t seen me at all. “‘Cause I’d never known a boy to be that pretty.”

“Now, Jack-” I started, my embarrassment trying hard to fester itself into anger. Well, ain’t you living proof to the contrary?

“It’s the truth!” He shifted closer to me, and I shifted away in return, bringing my knees up to my chest and pulling my scarf over my nose. “So how did you end up out here?”

“Mushin,’” I gave him a sidelong glance. “Been out here with my daddy since I’s ten. It’s how I make my living.”

“Who’s your da- your father, who is he?” His face reddened, making me giggle. I hid my face in my knees to cover it.

“Who’s my daddy?” I lean a little closer, enjoying being the one to make him squirm. “Well, he’s a fella by the name o’ Ysbrandt Maarschalkerweerd, but ain’t nobody this side the Atlantic can pronounce that, so they jus’ called him Dutch.”

“Oh.” He took a moment to digest it. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, that’s life.”

“I-I suppose?”

“It is. People just up and die out here sometimes.” I pushed away one of the team dogs from licking up my ear without checking who it was. “It’s not so bad.”

“You don’t miss him?”

“Not as much as I miss yours.” I admitted. “He was more of a father to me than my own ever was.”

“Really?” He leaned in, brow furrowed in contemplation.

“Yeah. He checked on me a lot, and one time- musta been about thirteen- I stayed with him at the claim for nearin’ six months while daddy and Skunker mushed supplies up to Nome. That’s when he bought Connie-dog for me. We went down to Klondike a fair bit to watch the fiddlers, see, and one time there’s a little boy sellin’ puppies. Turns out ol’ Colton’s lead bitch got knocked up by a wolf while they were out in the woods. Cost your daddy a whole dollar, but she’s been an asset ever since.”

“Wow.” He stroked the brindled fur between her eyes with reverence.

“It’s right we take you to Klondike. I think if you live an honest life out here- you stay true, you never rob, or hurt your dogs- your bones turn into a new gold seam when you die. Your pa never struck gold, but he might have made some for you.”

“Huh.” He looked thoughtful.

“Don’t let this place kill your kindness, Jack. You might leave some gold behind.”

“I won’t.” He noticed the scepticism on my face and added more emphatically: “I won’t.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen and still a green lil’ bean.” I shook my head. “You need better gear ‘n this. C’mon.”

He followed me dutifully to the sled where I dug around in my pack and produced my spare scarf, wool trapper hat that I usually wore under my coonskin, and a spare pair of fur cover-gloves to wear over his mittens.

“When you’re out in it, keep a scarf around your nose and mouth.” I pull the glove off my left hand with my teeth and show him the stub of my pinky finger, the missing tip on my index, and the hollow gouged into the pad at the base of my thumb. “‘Else you’ll lose ‘em like my fingers.” His eyes widened. “Wear these gloves over your mittens. I don’t have another coonskin, but you need more’n a baker’s cap to protect your ears. Tie it under your chin so it don’t blow off. You do that, you keep up with the sled, an’ you respect these dogs, and you’ll make it to Klondike with nothing missing.”

“Will they bite me?” He casted a nervous glance at the pack.

“No, but if you try anything abnormal I’ll bite you. They call me Dogtooth up at the Tlingit camp ‘cause a boy tried it on wi’ me and I bit square through his pecker.”

“Really?” He cringed, taking a step back.

“No.” I put my glove back on, smirking. “But you believed me, which gotta count for somethin.’”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Fightin’ already?” Skunker called out, hobbling along with two buckets full of fish.

“No, Skunker!” I waved him off. “Did too. Now come feed the puppies ‘fore they starve, get in their good graces.”

I turned to walk away, but Jack caught my shoulder and pushed himself flush against my back. I felt my heart quicken in that terrible, delicious rhythm as his lips brushed my ear. Every inch of me trembling with a craving like I had never felt.

“Did. Not.”

#ethan hawke #ethan hawke x reader #todd anderson x reader #white fang #jack london #call of the wild #white fang 1991 #jack conroy x reader

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ganymede-princess · 11 minutes

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The Craving | Jack Conroy (Pt. 2)

PART 1

ship: Jack Conroy x fem!OC

warnings: n/a

summary: Jack meets a musher girl on his first day in Alaska.

word count: 2105

a/n:

written by @ganymede-princess

Mushing with Jack Conroy made the Yukon come alive. I learned that on our first day out. It was as if the cruel, gnarled landscape transformed into a land of fairies as it passed through his eyes; and slowly, slowly, I began to see it too. The rolling fields of white began to glitter as if full of diamond crumbs as he trudged across them. Stones burst up from beneath the shimmering layer and became black obelisks as he wiped away the snow, marking a witch’s way. Silent owls and scurrying lemmings turned into forest sprites under his wondrous eye. I had never known a boy to carry magic in his pocket like he did, and I felt myself consumed with a mission to protect his optimism. It became a balancing act between guarding his body or his spirit. Often, I chose the body, for what is a soul with no vessel. When I scouted out our flanks and found huge pawprints gouged into the snow and fur snagged on a scraggly gorse bush, I couldn’t bare to frighten him with tales of snapping jaws and meat-stinking spittle, so I simply berated him for falling so far behind and dragged him back to the sled. Of course, he found out soon enough and turned timid for the rest of the day.

That night, I found myself observing a fight simmering between Jack and Alex. The frontier was a cruel mistress who had made Alex short tempered and unyielding; he felt Jack’s foolhardy nature itching him like a bedbug sore, as if any scrap of optimism was an insult to the suffering he had faced. Our night began calmly enough. We tied up the dogs and gathered enough dry wood for a fire, then sat around it to eat our salt beef, beans, and dried fruit. We had rice pudding in a can too, but Alex and I agreed we ought to save it for a rainy day. After that, Skunker hung a bucket of fish over the fire to thaw for the dogs, and Jack set about brushing his teeth.

“Got that tarp a little close to the fire, don’t you?” Alex’s voice was measured, but I could sense his irritation.

“Don’t wanna freeze to death.” Jack responded cheerfully. The meal and the fire had warmed up his spirits.

Alex said nothing in response, but sat down and watched him, seemingly waiting for the thing to catch alight. I picked my teeth with my thumbnail and stayed quiet. This was a man’s game, and I had no desire to stick my nose into it.

“What’s he doin?” Skunker sat by Alex and squinted as the boy scrubbed his mouth out.

“Cleaning his teeth.” He sipped his tea, eyes still trained on the sleeping tarp.

“How’d they get dirty?”

“C’mon, Skunker, you seen me do that.” I said, trying to alleviate some of the tension. I sucked a piece of beef gristle from my teeth and pointedly pulled out my own toothbrush from my rucksack.

“Well, you’re a lady.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed.” I filled my cup with snow and nestled it in the embers at the edge of the fire to melt. “And cavities are the manliest of illnesses, right?”

Skunker stuck his hands up in surrender, making Jack chuckle. The sound of his laugh warmed me better than the fire. I paused for a moment to admire the orange light as it flickered on his face. He turned around and spat, and in that moment his tarp caught alight. He leapt to his feet and stamped on it to no avail, but Skunker came to rescue and dumped some fish water on it. I stifled a gag at the stink of charred wool and fish guts, sticking my toothbrush in my mouth to mask it with mint. Poor Jackie. Skunker grabbed up the few fish that fell out and said his apologies.

“Told you, too close to the fire.” Alex said, eyebrows raised in a challenge.

Jack smirked, shrugged humbly and sat down to finish his teeth. Nothing seemed to faze this boy, and I could see that Alex’s goat was well and truly gotten. His bad attitude only got worse when we all shared a laugh at Jack’s frozen-solid toothbrush.

“Nice weather.” He guffawed, showing me his beautiful, stupid smile. My face broke into a grin before I could stop it and I had to quickly turn around to spit before I drooled white foam all down the front of me.

The thing that finally set Alex off was Jack having the audacity to read a book. I caught his face darkening beneath his hat, and as he rose I felt a terrible sense of foreboding. I set my toothbrush aside and crossed my arms to watch as he strode over, grabbed Jack’s pack and started scattering the books about the snow. There were heaps of them. I couldn’t believe we had been hauling around that much dead weight.

“What are you doing?” Jack hadn’t even had the chance to get angry yet.

“Only things my dogs drag are things we need.”

Jack’s eyes widened incredulously, and it took him a full second to comprehend what was happening.

“That’s my property!”

“You want ‘em?” He dropped a book right in my lap and tossed the bag at Jack. “You carry ‘em.”

“Hold it, hold it, hold it.” Skunker emerged between them, wielding the fish pail. “I’m gonna feed the dogs, fellas. You’re not gonna kill each other while I’m gone, are ya?”

“We’ll wait ‘til you come back.” Alex grumbled.

They glared at one another for a moment, then Jack sat down and kept reading, leaving his books strewn about camp. Alex started twanging his mouth harp, seemingly just to distract the boy from his book. They were both getting on my last nerve. I took a look at the book in my lap. It was brown, clothbound and had an engraving of a cat with wings and a man’s face on the front. I got to my feet and picked up another book.

“Alex is right, y’know.” I said casually, ambling over to pick up another one. “Even if I think he’s being an asshole-” I turned around and tossed the word over my shoulder. “-about it. But you should think about losin’ some of these. They’re weighin’ us down.”

Jack stayed quiet, glaring up at me in indignation. I handed him the first book and he snatched it ferociously from my hand. A surge of anger took hold of me, but I set my teeth and swallowed it. I held the next book out for him, and when he went to grab it, I pulled it away. His eyes flared, and then settled. I stared him down for a long moment before I held it out again. His hand reached gently for it, then yanked it away when he had me unawares.

“Hey!” I snarled and chucked the last book in his face. “Pick the rest up yourself if you’re gonna act like that! Ungrateful child.”

“I’m older than you!” It seemed my last comment got to him.

“Yeah, well act like it then.”

I wrapped up my sleeping mat that laid beside his and moved it to a clear spot beside the fire. I sat with my back facing him, heart hammering with wrath. I picked at my nails, chewing at the dead skin on the side of my right thumb, wishing I had something more significant to rip to pieces. I was furious to think I had let this kid grab a hold of my heart when he was still acting like a spoiled little brat. Rich city boy. I thought. Clinging to your books and your fantasies and weighing us down when every pound counts out here!

Skunker returned soon after, muttering agitatedly under his breath, leading Digger along by his harness.

“What are you mumbling about?” Alex lolled his head to the side.

“I had seven fish for seven dogs, and Digger didn't get fed.” Skunker fretted, stroking Digger’s ivory fur. “I swear there was a wolf in with the dogs! And I fed the damn thing!”

“How would a wolf get in with the dogs?” I cast a quick glance at Jack whose eyes were wide and fearful. I felt a prick of annoyance. Surely he doesn’t believe this horseshit? How green can you get?

“He’s dreaming again.” Alex assured him.

I got to my feet and picked my way over to check Digger over myself. He seemed happy enough, if a little annoyed at the absence of food.

“Maybe you mis-counted.” I offered.

“No. No, there was definitely seven.” He shook his head emphatically.

“Poor Digger. He doesn’t seem upset, though. Surely a wolf would frighten ‘em.”

“Your bitch is half wolf, maybe they’re used to the smell.”

“Maybe. Shall we give him some canned stuff?”

“Yeah.” Skunker agreed. “Be quicker to thaw.”

I looked him over one more time, and was about to go and check on Connie when I felt a hand on my upper arm. It was Jack, holding a stick of jerky and smiling apologetically.

“For Digger.” He said softly. “To keep him going ‘til his real food.”

“Thanks.” I took the stick and avoided his eyes, still annoyed with his prior rudeness and now flustered at the softness of his cheek in the firelight. I picked the jerky to pieces and fed it to Digger slowly, making him chew it.

“Um.” Jack said, still lingering beside me. I turned, not enough to see him, but enough to show I was listening. He paused for a second. “Uh, Quinn?”

“Mm?”

“I, um.” He took a deep breath and continued in a very formal voice. ”I apologise for my previous actions before, at the fire.”

I looked up at him. His eyebrows were lifted expectantly, though I read true remorse on his face.

“Okay.” I wiped the dog slobber off on the snow, cast a quick glance at the other dogs who were now happily fed and settling in for the night. Satisfied and not willing to disturb them, I marched over and took up Jack’s tarp.

“Hey!” He said, an accusatory edge to his voice. I looked up, irritated he would think I might do something to damage it, especially since it had already been spoiled with fish juice.

“Hey yourself.”

I laid the tarp out on a rock and piled a few handfuls of snow onto the stained piece, then took up a rock and started to scrape it down.

“Oh… sorry.” He ran a hand threw his hair, smiling bashfully.

“I ain’t out to get ya.” I grunted, looking down to hide the redness on my face. “What’re ya reading?”

“Oh, it’s uh, it’s called A Journey to the Centre of the Earth.” He pulled the book from his pocket and made his way over to show me. It was a thick thing, brown, with a beautiful gold illumination on the front. I looked at it close and saw it was a picture of three people on a raft, one holding what seemed to be a torch. “It’s an adventure story about a professor and his nephew who travel down a volcano into the Earth’s core, which turns out to be hollow and full of all sorts of weird creatures.”

“My… Do you s’pose it’s really like that?” I replaced the snow and scraped it down again.

“Who knows?” He chuckled. “When we were walking today I couldn’t stop imagining the snow collapsing under me and falling down into the underworld. Who knows what’s down there?”

“Well, if the volcano at Alligator Lake is any indicator, I suspect it's naught but hot gravy down there.”

“Gravy?” He giggled, tongue between his teeth. “I guess you’re right, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Nowhere, I s’pose.” I tossed away the rock and dug around in my inside pockets until I found my mother’s lavender oil. There was still a little there, so I sacrificed a drop to help mask the reek of the tarp. “You oughta read me some tonight, since I cleaned your bed up real nice. Help me sleep.”

“Sure.” His face lit up in a grin so wide I could see both rows of his teeth. “Will you move your tarp back over? I won’t be such a jackass, I promise.”

“Course you won’t.” I strolled by him on my way to collect my tarp. His eyes followed me, then my hand as it ran along his shoulder as I passed. “You might stink like one, though.”

#ethan hawke #ethan hawke x reader #jack conroy #jack conroy x reader #white fang #white fang 1991 #todd anderson x reader

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