Bane

March 16, 1866

The sheriff finished reloading and raised his gun. Cassus dropped back behind the animal carcass. The outlaw shoved the knife back into its resting place, and drew a pistol, loaded a single bullet and closed the cylinder.

He spun the cylinder and absently listened to the sound, a rapid series of clicks. "We 'ont hafta die here, Sheriff! Last chance!"

"Way I sees it, you're a dead man Finley, any way it goes! You come out nice like, and I'll put a bullet between your eyes. A kindness, t' help you avoid the Hangman's noose!"

Cassus Finley rose to his feet and fired his pistol, in one smooth motion. A five-in-six chance suggested his pistol would dry fire, but the hammer found it's mark on the cartridge, setting in motion the irrevocable chain reaction, whose result was a fifty caliber slug spinning through the barrel, and finding it's way into Sheriff George Rogers heart.

The Sheriff jolted, struggling to aim his weapon, failed and fired into the sand. Rodgers eyes held the outlaw's, until he collapsed atop his weapon, dead.

✟ ☧ ✟

It were o'er four-hunderd miles to California, but California were where I wanted t'be.

I looted the Sheriff and his posse. Took their rations, their guns, their long-arms, an' their ammunition. Then, stringin' as many o' their horses I could, I lit outta there.

I stopped along the way, tradin' where traders would trade, at outposts an' settlements an' Injun reservations. Iffin' the redskins wouldn't trade, I kilt'em dead, an' took what I wanted anyway. I s'pose I left a trail o'carnage behind me, but desperate were them times, an' surviv'n were the only thing in my head.

I traveled fourteen days, tradin' with some, an' preyin' on t'others. When I finally made it t' California, it were jus' me, the horse I were ridin' on, an' my loot.

I wern't but a day inside that state, wanderin' an' lookin' for a place t' hole up, when I come across't the law agin.

I were already found out, fer the murder of the Lincoln County Sheriff an' his seven deputies. An' iffin' it wern't enough bein' branded a murderer, an' wanted for robbin' banks an' stages, they stacked on horse thiefin' - a hangin' offense- t' boot!

They was waitin' fer me when I got to the crossroads...

✟ ☧ ✟

Cassus Finley arrived at a crossroads, with a young Juniper tree growing dead center. Across from him, on one corner, was a cabin, where two dark clad men stood, hands resting on their guns and looking in his direction.

Cassus pressed his weathered lips together, inhaled deeply through his nostrils and dismounted his horse, releasing his breath slowly, he rasped "Lawmen".

"Finley"!!

Cassus gave a single nod and drew his weapons. Crouching low, he fired on them, as he headed for cover behind the Juniper.

The Lawmen wasted no time returning fire, and these two were smarter than the Lincoln County bunch- much smarter- one firing, the other reloading.

He heard a sudden, shrill whinny from behind him, followed by the abrupt heavy thud of his horse, as it hit the ground.

"Ya kill't my horse!" Cassus shouted above the gunfire, reloading his pistols.

"You stole the damned thing anyway!"

"It were still my horse!"

"Finley, you coward! Why don't you come on over and do somethin' bout it?"

Cassus leapt sidelong from behind the tree, his guns blazing...

...firing into the wide, empty space before him.

The outlaw paused for a heartbeat, taking in the sky, as it continuously shifted between light and dark . Semi-translucent clouds moved rapidly, spreading across the infinite expanse. Overhead, Beasts, unlike any he had seen before, leapt from branch to branch in the tree, moving with an oily grace, snarling and gnashing their teeth.

Images flashed through his head, as they spoke to him, the distinct buzzing and rattling 'language' caused intense pressure and pain.

Cassus started to back away, lost balance and scrambled on his hands and knees, putting distance between himself and the tree..and the monsters perched in it.

The largest of the creatures, neither reptile, nor avian-yet somehow both-leapt to the ground. Cassus reacted quickly, regained his footing and brought himself upright.

The creature reared itself, screeching like a night bird, it's human-like eyes, a bright green, fixed on him..and it charged. A dark oily mane of tangled, matted hair, that ran from it's head to the tip of it's long tail, flapped behind.

The gunman aimed, firing both pistols in rapid succession, until they emptied. Releasing them, he drew his Bowie knife and readied himself.

The creature leapt.

Cassus reacted with years of outlaw expertise, and dropping to one knee, he plunged the long steel shaft of his knife into the monster's chest. Cassus felt the tug of the blade ripping through the beast, from it's breast to its scaly feathered tail, as it was passing over him, then rolled away and recovered to his feet.

The monster landed. Amazingly unaffected by the wound, it turned to face him.

Cassus Finley watched, curious but undaunted, as what should have been a mortal wound began to heal itself, until finally, it had sealed completely and disappeared.

"Well shit."

Cassus turned on his boot heel, and bolted toward the tree. He could hear the creature approaching from behind, closing the distance between them.

The monsters in the tree, seven beasts, each with the head of a different animal, reared up on the branches where they were perched. Their manes whipped about wildly with their fury; Each was a snarling cacophony of claws and teeth.

The monster behind Cassus leapt again, hurtling toward him, just as he was about to reach the tree, sending them both crashing into it.

The sky seemed lighter, even with it's constant shifting. The air moist and cool.

Cassus realized he was on the ground, the creature draped over him. He shoved the monster away, getting to his feet, unsteady at first, but quickly gaining balance. Cassus backed away, his Bowie still gripped in his hand.

The beast moved, then tried to stand, it's large head suddenly seemed too heavy, for its (oddly) smaller frame.

Cassus surveyed the landscape, the California landscape, and grinned. "Ain't the same here, izzit?"

The monster stumbled and shook as it struggled onto all fours. Slobbering and drooling as it snarled, snapping it's toothy beak.

"Yup. Rules is differn't here for you." He sheathed his blade, drawing a pistol. Cassus emptied the spent cartridges, and loaded the last six rounds on his belt, snapping the cylinder shut and took aim. He held it for a moment, looking down the barrel at the creature, then reconsidered. The outlaw lowered his weapon, holstering it with a spin.

"Let's see how well you heal up on my side o' the prairie." He drew his Bowie once more, advancing on the beast and closing the distance in just a few long strides.

Cassus plunged his weapon into the side of the monster's neck, driving it in to the hilt of the knife. It shrieked, and he did it again, and again. "Ye'r tough, alright.." he panted with the physical exertion, "but ya ain't no match fer me".

The creature shoved defensively with its shoulder, attempting to push its attacker away, its wounds now leaking a viscous black fluid. Cassus raised his Bowie over his head and brought it down powerfully, hitting bone this time. The creature choked and moaned, a pathetic guttural sound.

Cassus raised his blade one last time to deliver the final blow, severing the monster's owl-like head from it's long scaly neck.