A Man's Pride

Getting Closer

A few weeks later...

I gazed at a tree swaying in the wind, chopping carrots mindlessly for tonight's stew. It's easy to get lost in thought on a day like today. Spirits were high, everyone practically had a smile on their face, even Susan wasn't yelling at me to hurry up my chopping. It's hard to explain this feeling, but I won't fight it.

It must've been the return of Sean that inspired this mood. I guess he means a lot to the gang, despite the fact that he seems to annoy everyone, almost like a little brother. I like him, even though my sense of humour fits more with Arthur than anyone else.

Arthur and I have become good friends in these past weeks, he taught me how to improve my aim. Even showed me that I had been hunting wrong all my life, his words not mine.

Dutch was... I glanced over to our leader, he scanned the camp with a cigar hanging loosely from his lips. Molly by his side, putting on her face like she does every day, I swear that woman hasn't worked a day in her life. His eyes met my own. I felt my heartbeat quicken until a sudden pain overwhelmed my left hand. I looked down, I must've cut myself while daydreaming.

Pearson glanced over with a sickened expression. "Did I say tonight's recipe called for a chunk of a human finger?" He chuckled, I rolled my eyes with a smile in return. The cut must've been deeper than I realized at first because it started to really sting.

"Fuck that hurts, Tilly would you mind taking over while I wrap this please? Unless anyone likes blood in their stew?"

Tilly gave me a sweet nod and a touch on the shoulder as I walked over to my tent and took a seat, looking for some whiskey to clean my wound. A shadow blocked the sunlight that was beating down on me.

"Miss Fetcher are you alright? That looks like it went deep."

Dutch stood before me, he looks genuinely concerned, it was kind of sweet.

"I'll live. Should've paid more attention, I know Pearson likes to keep his knives sharp." I smiled through the pain, Dutch returned my smile with a more sympathetic one before kneeling down, taking my arm in a gentle grasp while inspecting my cut. Suddenly it didn't hurt as much.

"Let me take care of this for you..." Dutch proceeded to clean the cut with some whiskey before wrapping it tightly with a bandage. That stung like hell but at least it won't get infected.

"Thank you, sir." I nodded in a thankful manner towards Dutch, he suddenly had a perplexed look in his eyes.

"Sir? My lady, I may be old, but I hope that I'm not old enough that a pretty young lady feels the need to call me sir." He was teasing me, I won't pretend that I didn't hope for this reaction.

"Since when does sir mean old? I always saw it as strong and powerful, like a sign of respect." He looked flattered, was he blushing? Never thought I'd see Dutch van der Linde blush. It was endearing.

"How about you and I take a walk somewhere?"

...

The day was still young as the pair walked along the shore of a nearby river. The air was fresh, making every breathe worth the wholesome feeling that it came with. They'd been walking in a comfortable silence for a few minutes when Dutch spoke.

"You're something else, Anastasia..."

She blushed, looking down in hopes that he wouldn't notice. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"You're an intelligent, beautiful, thief that came from a broken home. Most of the boys back there don't know the difference between left or right, I swear. But you, you've got a good head on your shoulders." He pointed to his own forehead while looking into her eyes.