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barovianbitches · 6 months

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Hell's Coming With Me - Wynona Colt

“E-Excuse me- I’m here to uh, to pay my mama’s bail.” Wynona wrung her tail in her hand nervously, looking up at the two guards that stood chattering at the gates of Fort Faithful, the stronghold of the soldiers who served the local lord. They barely spared her a glance. They couldn’t be bothered by a scrawny teenager at their doorstep, mumbling something under her breath.

It had taken her weeks to scrape up the money, selling furniture, antiques from the farmhouse, and the scrap metal that was left when her father’s workshop burned down. Bertram helped some, moving heavy items for her and acting as a bodyguard. The warforged was the last thing she had left from her father, besides the crumpled notebooks and plans she had stowed away to save from the flames. She had worked so hard, and she felt as though she was on the brink of tears as she made the walk to the fortress.

“Excuse me-” The young Colt dared a little louder, standing up a bit straighter so they would notice her. She was met with a scornful gaze, a guard sneering from beneath his helmet. She felt so small in that moment, the high towers of the fortress stretching high above her, the iron portcullis resembling the maw of a monster from the fairytales her father read her.

“What is it? This is no place for little girls. Make it quick.” He spat, his shift partner chuckling wryly at the remarks the other man made. Despite the fact that she was clearly a thorn in their side, she refused to falter. Wynona was here for one thing, and one thing only.

“I wanna pay my ma’s bail, if you please, sir.” She continued, feeling her spirit break under his hateful gaze. He scanned over her, spotting her tail held in her hands nervously and the stubby horns that sprouted from her golden-blonde hair. She was unnaturally tan, a coppery sheen to her skin that almost glittered in the sun. Her eyes burned a bright green, one that might glow in the dark. This was no human child.

“Tch. You think this is the spawn of that big one we brought in, Rurth?” One guard scoffed, looking to the other man, gesturing to Wynona’s devilish features. Anxiety formed a ball in her throat, tears threatening to fall. They weren’t taking her seriously. The men didn’t understand what was on the line for her. They didn’t understand how in a few mere weeks, the rug was swept out from under her and everything she had known for her fifteen years of life was gone.

“Her name is Hera Serrano-Colt, sir– You brought her in a few weeks ago-” She was cut off by the butt of a spear being jammed into her cut, causing her to double over and cough in the dirt.

“You speak when spoken to, kid.” The other guard, Rurth, snapped at her, retracting his spear before looking back to the other man. “The Infernal? Think so. Don’t think any of the other prisoners woulda kept a halfblood brimstone baby.”

Anger swelled in her chest. Life on the ranch was lonely at times, but at least there she was protected from the ignorant humans that plagued all of Faerun. It was just how her mother liked it, as she experienced all too much of that hate while in the fighting ring. She bowed her head, gritting her teeth. Her fangs felt sharp in her mouth, and for the briefest moment, she imagined what it would be like to tear their throats out with her very own teeth.

“Don’t call me that.” Wynona choked out, trying to maintain her resolve. She hated that she cried when she was angry. She so desperately wanted to lash out, to make them fear her, but what could she do? She was a child, freshly orphaned by the cruel hand of a greedy noble. Not once in her life had she ever been on her own. Her wounds were all too fresh, still oozing blood, guilt, and grief.

The men paused, sharing a look. A brief kindling of hope sparked in her chest before they both burst out laughing. “Or what, brighteyes? You’re gonna bite our ankles? Watch out, Stren, she’s gonna sick her big scary mama on us. Oh, oh wait.” Rurth smirked, looking down at her with an evil glint in his eye.

Wynona balled up her fists, tears spilling down her cheeks as she lunged for Rurth, her hands aimed for his throat. Stren countered, bringing down the length of his spear across her back to swat her out of the air like a fly. She hit the ground hard, gasping for breath and rolling over on her back, clawing at the ground. Her lungs were empty, rib cage rattling desperately as she struggled for air. After a moment she gasped hard, coughing harshly.

“That’s what I thought.” Stren muttered, delivering a rough kick to her side with an armored boot. The guards showed no mercy, their faces twisted with sadistic pleasure as they pummeled the youth. Each strike left marks on her skin, welts that would soon blossom into bruises. She curled into a pitiful ball, trying to shield herself from the onslaught.

She felt weak and frail, meek cries drawn out of her as she struggled to stay conscious. Her nerves were fried, begging for her to just go to sleep and forget the rest. As the minutes stretched into eternity, the beating continued. The guards exhibited a merciless brutality, fueled by some unseen rage or malevolence. She bore the marks of their cruelty, her face swollen, and her body battered and broken. Tears mingled with the blood that stained her bruised face, but not once did she beg for mercy.

For a moment, she thought maybe she had passed out, but a single word managed to reach her ears.

“Stop!”

She felt the guards pause over her, clanking metal as they stood upright. Footsteps approached, and she blinked a bit, looking up to the blurry figure before her. She couldn’t process the portcullis of the fort raising.

“F-Father Alderbran! This delinquent-” Rurth stuttered, glancing down at the bloody teenager covered in dirt. Wynona tried to lift her head, but fatigue had set itself into her bones. Everything ached, and she could feel that at the very least she had a broken rib or two.

“And what do you think you are doing, gentlemen? Do you believe that Lord Haldric pays you to beat a mere youth half to death? I think not. You are both dismissed for the day.” The man scoffed, leaving both guards flabbergasted. “I said that you are dismissed.” He repeated, prompting Rurth and Stren to hightail it in with their metaphorical tails between their legs.

“What is your name, child?” Her savior spoke, reaching a hand down to pet her head. The touch wasn’t entirely welcome, but she wasn’t in a position to protest.

She coughed a bit, blood staining the dirt. “Wynona… Colt, sir.” She managed after a moment. The man nodded, gesturing something to several other guards to do something. She watched vaguely as a stretcher was brought out and placed on the ground beside her, pain shooting through every limb as they tried as carefully as they could to move her onto it.

“Fret not, Miss Colt. We will take care of you inside.” He nodded, the guards lifting her. As she past, she was able to observe the man. She realized as she briefly looked over him, he was a holy man. The priest was a middle-aged man with a kindly demeanor. He had a slightly stooped posture and salt-and-pepper hair, which framed his gentle face. His dark, warm eyes held a wisdom that only years of serving his community could bring. He wore a traditional black cassock, and a simple silver coin dangling from a chain around his neck.

“Thank you, sir.” She managed to murmur, her consciousness finally slipping with the sense of security she felt, something her mother would scold her for.

You can never let your guard down, ‘Nona.

Her ma’s words echoed through her mind as she shut her eyes once more.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Wynona awoke some time later, her wounds healed with but small scars leftover. Some type of magics, she thought to herself. The priest sat across from her as a cleric left the room, leaving them alone. He watched her with an intense curiosity, one that made her squirm in her cot. She never liked holymen, what they were shucking was as good as snake oil. Her pa was a man of science, and her ma was a devil, enough said.

“Wynona, was it? I extend my deepest apologies for my men. Some of them… Well, are nothing but soldiers, and have trouble separating foes from civilians.” Father Alderbran spoke, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

She tried to sit up, wincing in anticipation as she fully expected fiery pain to burn through her limbs. Fortunately, though, she felt as fresh as a foal.

“Ah yes, do not worry. Our lovely clerics have fixed you up good as new. You should only walk away from this with a few minor scars.” He smiled kindly. It was a disarming smile, one that made her feel comfortable in her seat. One that goaded her to confess all of her sins to this man she barely knew. Wynona remained silent. For a split second, Alderbran’s smile faltered. “Do not worry, my child. You are safe. Now tell me, what has brought you to Fort Faithful.”

She fixed her eyes on him, something not quite sitting right with her as she shifted nervously. “I came to pay my mama’s bail and take her home.” Wynona said finally, waiting and gauging his reaction before she spoke another word.

“Ah, I see.” He nodded, smiling a bit. She could see his eyes dart up, fixing on her small horns. “Your mother, is the Infernal, I presume? Golden skin, four arms, sturdy as an ox?” He had described her mother in perfect detail. She was here, she had to be.

Wynona did her best to hide her excitement, her eyes widening ever so slightly at the description. She didn’t like the way the man said infernal, but she couldn’t expect much from a holyman who didn’t understand. “Yes… That’s my mama, Hera Serrano-Colt. I wanna pay her bail and take her home.” She repeated, the words tired in her mouth from how many times she was forced to repeat herself.

“Ah, yes. The demoness, wife of the great inventor, Arthur Colt.” Alderbran continued. “She is new to the fort, yes? It has only been… Five weeks? I recall the night she was reprimanded.” The way he spoke about her parents’ capture was all too casual for her liking, and despite her fatigue, she could feel anger bubbling in her gut.

“Yes sir.” Her teeth grit, still trying to maintain some modicum of politeness. “My pa was captured six months ago, then you took my ma last month.” By all means it was an accusation, a clawed finger pointing at the man before her. Something was wrong with this man, but she couldn’t quite tell what. Her intuition was telling her to run, to get up and get out as fast as she could. Get away from this fort, circle back and try again later.

“Correct. Now, you see, my child, with what money would you be paying her bail with?” The Father asked, his tone cool and even. He raised his brow, ever so slightly.

“This money right here, sir-” She reached down to her hip, aiming to grab her satchel that she had carried there the entire way to the fort, the satchel that held her mother’s bail, a whole five hundred gold. “Where’s my bag, sir. It’s gone.” Before she even asked the question, she already knew the answer.

“Your bag? Oh, yes, that bag. We had to confiscate it, of course, when we brought you in. Who knows what you could have been carrying.” He brushed it off, a cold smile working its way into his features.

Her hands curled into fists. “I’m gonna be needing that bag, it’s all I have, sir.” Wynona spat the last word, her composure starting to give.

“I’m afraid that is not going to be possible. You see, we will consider it to be a charitable and ever so generous donation to the Silver Hawks and Lord Haldric. Someone will have to pay for Sir Rurth and Sir Stren’s time off. Besides, in a turn of events, your mother has been imprisoned without bail due to her crimes against his lordship. Not only was she an accomplice to your father’s efforts, but she killed three of my men while resisting her arrest.” Alderbran tutted her tongue, looking at Wynona. “We will have to be sending you home now.”

Rage burned in her lungs, her vision becoming blurry. “You- You tricked me! I thought, I thought you were going to help me!” She snapped, rolling out of the bed and to her feet, baring her teeth at the priest.

He smirked, standing as well. The Father towered over her, fixing her with a sinister expression. “Please, we would never let a devil like that loose in Faerun. Who knows what destruction she would cause? She is an Infernal beast that we will be locking away for a long, long time.” Alderbran chuckled, moving to leave the room.

Wynona’s chest began to heave, her claws leaving marks in the skin of her palms. “You, you, son of a bitch–” She yowled, her anger boiling over as she lunged towards him. He was visibly weaker than the guards outside the gates, and wasn’t wearing armor. Perhaps if she clawed his face off, left him a bloody pulp, she would be arrested to- Then maybe, just maybe, reunited with her ma.

“Manere.” Her thoughts were cut short, a purple warding rune blooming from the floorboards beneath her at the spoken word and capturing her in a magical glow. She hung suspended in the air, caught lashing out at the man. He rolled his eyes, turning towards her, his hand held out as he maintained the spell. “You insolent spawn, how foolish can you be? Leave this place, and never return. There is no hope for your fiendish parents. Guards. Seize her and throw her out.” He turned, releasing the spell as two more armed men entered the room, grabbing her by her biceps.

Wynona did everything she could, screaming, shouting, clawing, and biting, but her anger fell on deaf ears. Alderbran didn’t speak another word, silently moving down the hall. In the opposite direction as she was dragged towards the large door leading outside.

“I’ll get you, you son of a bitch! I’ll get you, I’ll get everybody in this damn building! I’ll gut you like a fish, THEN you’ll see who’s fucking fiendish!!” She snarled, digging her heels into the floor.

Alderbran turned, briefly glancing over his shoulder with his hands folded behind his back. “Yes, I’m sure you will, Miss Colt. I’ll send your regards to your mother. I’m sure she would love to know how her foulblooded spawn miserably failed to release her from her chains.” He chuckled, turning again and disappearing down the hallway.

“I promise, I’ll be back when you least fucking expect it, you monster! I’m gonna burn this place to the ground! You’ll see, you’ll fucking see!” All who heard her cries wrote them off as the ramblings of a feisty teenager, empty promises fueled by grief. Oh how wrong they were.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It had been a year since that day, a year since she made the promise to that ignorant preacher that she would be back. The weeks and months that dragged on caused everyone to forget the mad cries of that teenage girl as she was thrown out, the portcullis closing firmly behind her.

As Alderbran forgot her face, she spent her time pouring herself over her father’s schematics. Since she was little she knew how to fire everything from rifles to revolvers to flintlocks, but she had never tried her hand at building one herself with a severe lack of guidance. Not only was she building weapons, but connections. She cashed in one favor to get an old copy of Fort Faithful’s building plans, another favor for white phosphorus and lime. One more for some insider information, that the plans for Hera’s move to the main city fell through, and that she still remained there all this time. Then finally came the day that she would make good on her promise to the Father.

Since she had last visited the fort, she had grown some. In that year she had found her mother’s old riding gear, a pair of fine red leather boots with golden spurs and a dusty black cattleman’s hat. It wasn’t much, but it brought her some amount of comfort, and she thought it fitting to save her ma in style. Not only did she sport new leather, though, but twin pistols on either hip. Sol and La Luna, she called them, named for her father, the moon, and her mother, the sun.

Fear never gripped Wynona Marybeth Colt as much as it did at that moment. Her pockets clinked and jangled with the sound of glass. Adrenaline filled her veins as she dashed through the open doorway, ducking around two guards that had been looking for the teenager that had broken into the fort in search of her mother. They shouted after her, poising crossbows right in the soft spots of her joints. She caught their gaze, her emerald eyes wide like an animal as she hucked a bottle at their feet, smashing on the floor between them. The moment the orange liquid met wood and oxygen, it ignited, green sparks flying into the air and using the wood as fuel for a blaze. The men let out cries of terror, hollering for reinforcements.

She wasn’t looking their way, though. She was looking down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, the floorplan and layout of the various floors of the floor written in smudged ink. Holding cells were in the ground floor, but they kept the more dangerous folks down in the basement. Lets see the stairs– Left left, right left. Should be a door. Wynona’s heart beat in her throat, damn near choking on her own air. She was so close to the first step of putting her life back together. First she would get her mother, then with their combined power they would arm themselves with everything left at home to retrieve her father.

Wynona still remembered the look in her pa’s eyes when they came to take him first.

It had been a late night in the shop, her and her mother having gone to bed in the farmhouse. She had woken when she heard her ma shouting profanities on the porch, and as she ran to the window she saw the soldiers storming her father’s workshop. In nothing but her nightgown, she tugged on her boots and ran out to do what she could to help. By the time she reached them, four grown men were mustering all of their strength to restrain Hera, each of them taking one of her arms as she roared in anger.

Wynona watched on as her father, beaten bloody, was dragged from the double doors of the shop through the mud of the ground. “Pa!!” She cried out, the scream making her throat sore. Hera was having none of it. They would not take Arthur, not with her around. He was hoisted to his feet by two guardsmen, another delivering a brutal right hook across his jaw. His glasses fell to the ground, shattering on impact. He spat blood as his wife shouted for him, murder in her eye.

“Don’t hurt them, my love! They don’t understand! I’ll, I’ll be alright!” He coughed, lifting his head weakly to look at his wife and daughter. Wynona lunged forth, trying to hug him, but she was caught mid-air and roughly shoved to her knees. “Leave them out of this, please! It is not their work, it is mine!” He thrashed in their hold as they wrangled him into the back of a cart, slamming the door closed and locking it after him. He threw himself against the bars, making eye contact with his daughter.

“Wynona, you listen to your mother, while I’m gone, alright? Help her! Remember, don’t lose your spark! I’ll, I’ll be back in no time!” He reassured her, the lie bitter on his tongue. He knew wherever he was going, he would surely die there. But that was not a thing to admit to his wife and child.

“Pa!! Pa, don’t go!” She cried, trying desperately to free herself from the guards’ painful grip on her arms. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her freckled cheeks. That night, she had lost her father.

She choked back a sob, refusing to cry at such an important moment. The waterworks were for after she had her mother back. Wynona hit a corner hard, pivoting left on a dime and dodging an arrow that sailed from down the other side of the hall. The second found its mark though, lodging painfully in her shoulder. She yelped, stumbling forward but catching herself before she truly fell. She had to get ahead of them- She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on lock picking if they were hot on her tail. Her eyes fixed on a heavy bookshelf and a suit of armor that decorated the hall, stealing a glance behind her to see them closing in.

She hucked the bag off her shoulder, letting it fall to the ground. She dug her heels into the floorboards, her spurs digging into the wood as she came to a screeching halt. Wynona turned fully, staring down the hall directly at the several guards chasing her. Wait a second, one more. Just a little more, c’mon c’mon c’mon-

As soon as they were close enough, she gripped the bookshelf, heaving it down onto the satchel sat in the middle of the hall. It only took three heavy books to fall out, the crushing of glass heard a mere millisecond before enormous green flames erupted from the bag, at least six some flasks of alchemist's fire igniting at once.

The shockwave of the explosion sent her and the guards flying down opposite ends of the hall, to which her back slammed into the wall. It knocked the air from her lungs, but she didn’t have time to think before she was up and moving again. The green flames started to spread, burning heat following her as she ran. Left left, right left. Left left, right left. She repeated over and over in her head. Left left, right left. Left left, right left.

Just as the plans had said, she found herself standing before a door. Hope swelled, her eyes wide with excitement. Without a second thought, she burst through, expecting a staircase, but instead coming face to face with coal-black eyes.

“Well well. Look who is back. Have you come for your mother?” Father Alderbran snarled in her face, shoving her back. She was caught off-guard as she tumbled back to the ground, shock evident in her expression. “What, you expected to be a hero today, didn’t you? That you would barge right into MY fort and somehow get out unscathed? You’re more foolish than you look, Miss Colt.”

The plans. The plans said this was the stairs to the holding cells. The plans were wrong. She had been done in.

“It’s been a whole year, you son of a bitch. A lot has changed. I’m here for my mother.” She snapped back. Something was different now, Alderbran observed. Something had changed within this girl. No longer was she a meager mouse, heart broken by a cruel system. He was too absolved in his thoughts to see the boot flying for his knee as she kicked sharply out, forcing him to crumple to the ground. Her other foot swept his cheek, sending him careening into the wall.

Wynona jumped to her feet, her eyes fixed on the man. “Where is she.” She snarled, baring her fangs with true ferocity, reaching up and ripping the crossbow bolt from her shoulder and dropping it to the ground in front of him. “You better start talking, Father, before I get bored of you.”

She had broken his nose, blood pouring down the bottom half of his face. He collected himself, looking up to her with a smirk. “You really think she is still here, after all this time? You think you are so smart, infiltrating us like that. But we were always one step ahead.” Alderbran chuckled, collecting himself. Without another word, Wynona reached toward her waist belt. “Manere!!” He shouted, holding his hand out as the same purple rune blossomed. Wynona froze, eyes widened and hand poised over her hip.

“You have nothing against a spellcaster, you little wretch. You will soon understand your mistakes.” He went to stand up, bowing his head for a moment. As he began to move, though, he felt cold metal pressed between his eyes.

“And yet I’m the devil that you forgot, father.” She snarled back, an odd contraption poised in her hand, pressed against his skin. She had held strong against his spell, faking him out and allowing him to let down his guard. Her thumb flicked over a curved piece of metal, the device making an audible click. “Any last words?” Wynona drawled, her voice low and gravelly. Her tone sounded bored, like a cat growing tired of a mouse.

His eyes widened, fear taking hold of him. “Wait, you do not know what you are doing! You will unleash something far worse on yourself if you do this, child. Where will you go now? Your mother is gone, sent to the city. You have burned this place to the ground, and everyone knows your name.” The preacher spat at her boots, glaring up at her.

She rolled her shoulder idly, wincing a bit from the pain the bolt caused her. “Just taking out the trash.” Wynona replied, pressing the barrel harder against his skull. “What, you’re not gonna beg for mercy? Your last words are gonna be telling me what I can and can’t do? Not very smart of ya, father.”

Alderbran grit his teeth in response, his nails digging into the floor. “You want to know why they were captured, don’t you?? Who’s to blame?” He offered, a last ditch attempt to buy him maybe a few more minutes. “Your father was a clever man, he wouldn’t have made such a careless mistake, neither would your devil of a mother.”

Wynona furrowed her brows. He was right. Arthur Colt was a genius, an arcane engineer that fused corporeal and incorporeal components to create inventions no one had ever seen. He wouldn’t have put those weapons into the hands of the unsavory, not willingly. She hated it, but Alderbran was right. It would give her a new name to add to her list.

She bowed her head, sighing, but she didn’t move her hand. “Fine then. Go ahead and explain it to me, then maybe I won’t blow your brains to kingdom come. You have a minute, Father. A minute to convince me you deserve to still walk this fucking earth with all the things you did to me.”

The preacher’s eyes widened at his chance, fumbling over his words. “The Hawks had found evidence of your father’s designs as far as the deserts of Anauroch.” Wynona wrinkled her nose in response, digging the metal back into his skin, coaxing more from him. “T-That’s all they found! But they were your father’s weapons, the guard had only ever seen such craftsmanship from him.”

“Not good enough.” She snarled. Perfect, they found weapons in some shithole desert, what a big fucking deal. Wynona poised her finger over the trigger, beginning to squeeze. Behind her, the popping sizzles of wood had caught up with her, flames licking at the walls from where she came from. “Shit.” She muttered, looking back at the preacher. “I’ll send your regards to my ma when I get her out.” She snapped.

“Wait- There was a fugitive- Winchester- '' He eked out, his eyes wild and frantic as he tried to back away. Her finger was faster, as with another click of La Luna, the insides of his skull painted the floor behind him.

“Son of a bitch.” Wynona snarled to herself, holstering the pistol. A fugitive? That never boded well. There were hundreds of fugitives and wanted men all across just the Sword Coast, let alone stretching all the way out to Anauroch. She didn’t have time to reminisce, though, as the hallway began to burn around her, the heat licking at her back. She dashed into the preacher’s chambers, looking for a quick escape. The green flames licked at the walls, eating up the wood like a starving dog.

Wynona glanced around, spotting a small square window high up on the wall. On the opposite end of the room, though, piles of papers. She had time. Maybe in that stack, something about her parents was buried there and about to be burned up.

She dashed over to the desk, keeping a watching eye on the green flames that mirrored her irises. The acrid smoke wafted through the room, gathering at the ceiling in burning black clouds. Sifting through papers as fast as she could, she found several vague letters and correspondences between Alderbran and other officials, discussing the recent removal of an Infernal from the premise. Bingo.

She gathered them up in her arms, dashing for the window as the flames chewed at the edge of the desk, getting too close to comfort to her leather boots. She jittered open the lock on the window, busting it wide open and throwing the window outward. Positioning herself on the windowsill, she stole one more glance back, her eyes fixing on the burning body of Alderbran.

He was slowly becoming nothing but a set of charred remains, the flames burning away any recognizable features. Wynona wrinkled her nose at the awful smell of burning hair and flesh. From her pocket, she pulled a flat gold tin, opening it. She placed a rolled cigarette between her fingers, leaning over and lighting it on the burning curtain.

“Good riddance.” She muttered, spitting in his direction. She placed the cigarette to her lips, breathing in through her mouth and letting smoke billow out from her nose before folding the papers under her shirt and holding onto her hat before she pushed herself out the window.

While the fall wasn’t pleasant, she was cushioned by the roof of the horse stable, falling through and onto a bed of hay. She was met with a distressed whinny. Wynona startled, looking up to see a rearing horse. She got to her feet, quickly trying to sooth it. Outside, chaos ran amuck, guards either fleeing the flames or attempting to put them out as the fort came down in green cinders around them.

A quick glance around made her realize this was the only horse left, his reins tied to the post of his stall with no saddle in sight. He was large and clearly unhappy with the nose and smell of smoke, his black hooves stamping at the ground.

“Woah woah there, boy, calm down-” She soothed, holding her hands out to him. He was skittish, trying to back away from her. He strongly resembled that of a friesian, his black coat bearing warm brown undertones around his belly. His black mane was tied into braids to keep it out of his face. “You’re gonna be alright, boy, hear me? I’m gonna get you out of here.” Just for a moment, her heart ached, yearning for the memories of her taming the wild horses that roamed the ranch. However, it was not the time for reminiscing about fonder times.

“C’mon, lemme get you untied, we’re leaving.” Wynona reached around him, pulling his reins loose from the post, her other hand placed on his neck and trying to sooth him. He settled ever so slightly at her touch, still nervous from his surroundings. “There you go. You gonna let me up on ya? We’ll see.” She mumbled to herself. With a lack of saddle and stirrups, she set her foot onto the edge of his water trough, pulling herself up and onto his back.

He knickered, trying to rear and buck her off. “Woah there, c’mon, now’s not the time, boy, gotta get out of here first, yeah?” She patted his neck, her eyes fixed on the open portcullis across the yard. She gripped the reins, snapping them and digging her spurs in. “Let’s go!” Wynona barely had time to process it before the horse burst through the stable door, bolting across the yard. He was faster than she expected, her hand reaching up to stop her hat from flying away.

Another surge of adrenaline followed, her eyes wide with youthful excitement. The guards didn’t have time to process it as she sailed right through the gates and down the dirt path, putting distance between her and the burning fort.

While the horse did his job, her mind wandered. “Winchester.” She muttered under her breath. Her itchy trigger finger didn’t give the preacher man enough time to finish his sentence, but she didn’t know what his word was worth anyway. But, she had a name, and a place. Winchester of Anauroch. Whoever he was, he was gonna be a dead man in due time.

#Wynona #Wynona Colt #lore #d&d #Wynona Marybeth Colt #Hera Serrano-Colt #Arthur Colt

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