𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 [ 𝘢.𝘮 ]

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. Adapting

A photograph is like a time machine.

It brings one's mind back to the matter, replaying the sensations with it.

The stupid grin imprinted on the paper makes her lips tug. As if the picture craves to stimulate the emotion. To make her feel the exact kind of happiness that was captured that warm mid-summer day.

Sighing softly, she caresses the old memory. The photograph has become worn over the years; the black and white surface is no longer clear, thanks to the bleach of the sun. Its edges are damaged, and the whites have dissolved into dirty yellows.

Nevertheless, she keeps the piece of paper close to her heart. More specifically, the inner pocket of her cloak. Yet, thankfully, she had quite spontaneously settled it in her satchel not too long ago. Fortunate, she was, because her belongings are still located at Six Point Cabin.

She will have to ride back tomorrow, just to pick up what she left. Earlier that day, she didn't want to push her limits, hence why she left her belongings behind. All she brought was her trusty steed and the satchel attached to his saddle.

By the thought of the stallion, she finds herself peeking out from the parted tent flaps. She was blessed enough to obtain her own tent within this camp and has stayed in it since then. It's not much; a wooden cot and an empty barrel. Still, she finds herself exceptionally thankful.

It saves her from the many curious gazes.

The dark horse is tied to one of the hitching posts, eating away at the plants of the earth. He seems content, not on guard at all. Once aware of her approach, he tenderly lifts his head, chewing at the remains of the grass still in his mouth.

Lilly smiles at the animal, her hand finding his soft coat. She strokes along his muscular back, which is now freed from the saddle. Next, her palm caresses his muzzle, lips turning up in a small grin as he snorts merrily.

"That's a beautiful horse you've got."

Still holding onto his muzzle, she turns her head to see the approacher. A colored woman is standing before her, gorgeous dark hair tied into a thick braid. A small smile is visible on her face, the kind appearance taking Lilly by surprise.

Nonetheless, she cracks a smile of her own, blue eyes going back to the stallion of matter. "That he is," she agrees.

The woman moves closer, hands folded neatly in front of her. "Never seen one of the kind," she continues, sending her a friendly peek before looking back at the stud. "What's his name?"

"Trigger," she replies shortly, watching as the woman reaches out to touch his coat. However, she halts, looking expectantly over at her again.

"May I?"

Quite hurridly, Lilly nods. "Go ahead," she allows, "he never turns down a few pats."

A hearty laugh escapes the woman, her head shaking back and forth. "These animals never do."

Another smile threatens to surface, the blonde's features lighting up at her kindness.

"I'm Tilly," the woman smoothly slips in, "Tilly Jackson, to be exact. Lilly, right?"

The blonde settles with a simplistic nod. It doesn't surprise her that she already knows her name, but it makes her wonder what prejudices they have. If what Dutch told her is accurate, these people cannot be too pleased with having her among themselves.

"What do you say I introduce you to the girls?" Tilly offers once noticing her change of behavior.

Although a little hesitant, she finds herself nodding at the idea. If she's going to stay here, she might as well get the introduction part done.