The Shackles Within

Chapter 1: Colter

A harsh frost latched to your face as the mountain air chilled your lungs. Fighting the blizzard, your head remained buried in a crimson scarf, desperately nuzzling to absorb the fleeting warmth. Micah had been the one to lead the group through the storm, his voice consistently assaulting your ears. Nobody had expressed their hatred as clearly as you, your jaw clenching at the first mention of his name. With your horse slowing into a halt, you finally raise your gaze, noticing the homestead at your front. Its warm light seeped through the iced windows as the sound of music carried through the air - an almost comforting melody against the lashing winds.

Your feet merged with the snow as you settled besides Arthur, the scent of whiskey and leather tickling your nose. His hair was longer than yours, the cool brown in contrast to your warmer ginger had leaked from his hat. Despite his soft interior, his face was rough - a sharp stubble prickling his cheeks. Arthur's wrinkles lined his forehead, the usual furrow painting a permanent expression. Growing up together you had idolised him, doing everything you could to follow in his footsteps. As you remain crouched together in the snow, you turn your attention towards Dutch, his dark frame walking into the light.

"Hello? Excuse me?" the door swung open, casting a yellow glow across his face. "My friends and I, well we got into some.. trouble up the way. Lost in the storm." a soft chuckle fought to feign his innocence. As a child you once believed him, the morals of the outlaw aligning with your own. Since the events of Blackwater, you weren't so sure of him anymore. Something had changed inside of him, a faint flicker of his personality shining through. Dutch had been a father to you when you first joined the gang, but now? Your relationship had begun to fade from that of family, to that of a stranger.

"Arthur.. we got a problem," Micah lifted a blanket that had been draped across an old wagon, the sight forming knots within your core. "There's a corpse right here." he continued.

Slipping an arm behind you, your hand smoothed across the dusted pistol, the chill of the metal threatening to poke through your gloves. Before you had the opportunity to rise from your post, bullets pierce through the air as more men rush from the building. If Arthur had waited a second longer, you wonder if Dutch would've been shot. Would he have been killed and shoved under the blanket like the other man? Questions probe your mind as you finish taking out the last of the men, one shot splitting through his leg as the second shattered in his chest.

"I said I'd handle this!" the innocent façade had slipped from Dutch's grasp, his voice slick with irritation. "There was a body Dutch! You really think we'd just let that be?" you spat, not understanding why he seemed so irritated. If those men knew who you were, they would've certainly done more than just kill you. O'Driscoll's were not ones to show mercy, and acting when you did might've just saved his life - not that he seemed to care. If it was you that took the first shot, you would've remained in silence, not bothering about your own defence.

-

Defrosting from the long trek, you allow the cabin to embrace you in its warmth. The flames crackle beneath your hands, aiding your fingers in the escape from their frostbitten fate. Your gloves collapsed with a thud, dropping from your arms tuck, as you reach to grab the picture before you. The fireplace was lined with picture frames, a married couple featured in each. "Jake and Sadie Adler." you mutter, taking note of their names. The two appeared to be close in age, perhaps a few years older than yourself - placing them around their mid 20's. You feel the frame click against the bricks as you lower it gently into its original place. Taking one last look at the woman in the photo, dread leaps to your chest. Jake - the husband - had been killed by the O'Driscoll's and dumped outside. But Sadie? Where was she? Unless the others had kept it from you, there was no further knowledge of a second body so unless she was taken, there was no sign of her being here. Pushing the dread further down your torso, you spun on your heel to follow Arthur outside.

-

Packing the last of the canned goods, you allow Burdock to support you as you lean against his shoulder. A handful of years had passed since you first found him alone at the side of the road. The wagon he was pulling had been robbed, leaving him completely stranded as he was still attached. You were out with Arthur when you first spotted the tricoloured stallion, forcing a halt in your plans. As you lifted off the harness, he nuzzled into your back to express his gratitude. Since then, the two of you had built your bond, trusting each other completely. Stashing a single packet of oatcakes in your satchel, you spot Arthur emerging from the barn. Upon closer inspection, his dishevelled look became clearer, a nasal laugh crackling from within. A horse walked alongside him, its patches littered across its coat.

"Horse did a number on you, huh?" you stroked your own while eyeing his, laughing at the thought of him being tossed around in its stall.

"Damn O'Driscoll jumped me!" with his voice forming a low rasp, he answered. Before you could gage more about what happened, a desperate scream disrupted your thoughts.

"Get away from me!" her spit flew as she yelled out, the feeling of glass scratching in her throat. Your eyes fell onto the scene before you when you entered the cabin, disgust churning in your gut as you watched Micah chase her around the table. There was a specific look in his eyes that unsettled you, his pupils were dark - intention reflected in their depth. A shiver split down your spine before you finally called out, your own voice breaking. "Quit pestering her Micah!" you yell, barely dodging the loose plate she hurled in his direction. A twang of disappointment hits you, wishing desperately that it would've smashed against him instead.

"I wasn't doin' nothin'!" the sound of Micah's voice grated your gears. God you hate that man with every fibre of your being. Against all prayers for him to shut his mouth, he spoke up again. "She's one of them O'Driscolls!".

"No she ain't, Micah. Look at her!" Dutch tried to grasp their attention when Micah flipped the table between them. It only took a second for the cabin to catch fire, the blaze spreading without delay. Allowing the woman to wear your already warmed coat, you opted to take a rogue blanket, wrapping it around yourself as you rushed from the building. The heat flashed behind you as you re-entered the cold, the fast alternation between the two temperatures causing you to feel flushed for a moment. Thinking briefly back to the photos lining the fireplace, you recall the names written on the back - identifying the woman as Sadie Adler herself.