Gold. Silver. Frankincense. Myrrh. Gifts fit for a God, but what is fit for the King of Birmingham?
What is fit for a man that already has everything a man could possibly want?
A little bit of Gold created Chaos, perhaps?
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The campsite that had quickly become the Golds new home was nothing in comparison to the last. The woods were quiet, but not quiet enough to hear if anyone was trying to ambush them. Milly would know, she planned a hoax ambush the first night they had gotten there and to say the results were poor would've been an understatement.
In fact, they had been so unaware of where the intense sound of heavy footsteps (she wore her fathers boots,) were coming from, the men stood in a circle- all facing outwards, turning every few seconds to make sure they hadn't become sitting targets.
Of course, Milly had received a hounding for such act, that she hadn't even noticed Esmeralda's little disappearing act.
"Dorothea, must you always be such a child!" Aberama scolded as a tent fork was driven into the hardened ground.
Bonnie stood by his sister, leaning most of his body weight against her. The height difference alone was enough to topple her over- let alone the added muscle weight he'd gained over the weeks of fighting dead ash trees that littered their old home.
"She made us realise that this ain't as quiet as we're used to, Gold." One of the men pointed out- quickly pulling his hands up, almost as though he was surrendering.
Aberama fell silent, for once- dropping the conversation from escalating any further. It was a well known fact between those who worked for Aberama that fights between the middle Gold and her father were often far more explosive than gun fights.
Words were often exchanged in jest but things could change as quickly as the direction of the wind.
With no notice or warning, Bonnie grabbed hold of the collar of Millys yellow shirt before he began to drag her away from the campfire. Where? Bonnie hadn't actually figured that out- but he needed Millys full attention and that was difficult in a crowded place. Half of the time, Milly listened to her surroundings instead of those directly in front of her. Bonnie had- for years, blamed that on his mother. She'd told both Bonnie and Milly to listen past those around us, to think deeper than surface level and she seemed to be the only one to take on the advice. Bonnie on the other hand, he focused on his timing and speed. He'd need that more than his ability to pay attention to his surroundings. A fist flying towards his face would always prove to be easier to calculate than miles out of his peripheral vision.
"Where are—" Josettes voice was cut off by a glare, presumably from Nicolette who knew exactly what was happening.
In Birmingham town, anything is possible. Rags have turned into riches once before and with the skill that every Gold possessed, it was just a matter of time.
After a moment or two of perfectly silent walking- or rather dragging in Millys case, Bonnie stopped dead in his tracks in front of an old oak tree. It was large, humongous actually, and seemed to represent something more. It suddenly became more than just a tree, it was what they could become, given the right nurturing soul to guide it through. Or maybe it was just a tree.
