#anyways if you actually read these tags uhh thanks for bearing witness i guess

[shadow-bender]

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[manicmarsupial]

The Smallest Outlaw Chapter 4- The Point of Snow Return

I’ve really got to progress to the Horseshoe Overlook chapter. I’m running out of snow puns. A bit of a boring chapter, but there is Ollie’s origins and a small (lol) physical description...that’s kind of it really. Also...I really stink at trying to write accents because of stupid hearing

I’m still trying to figure out if this story will follow the plotline exactly or make it in to a fix-it fic. Oh the choices...help...

As usual, feel free to submit ideas you would like to see. Also, acknowledgments and thank yous to @yeenybeanies (Devin is awesome), @lilnoodlegal (Outlaws and Winglings is a much better story than my brain barf shitposting), and @tiny-james (for fuelling the fire of my madness regarding RDR2 G/t).

Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged for updates to this story. Let’s get this started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know when I fell asleep. I’m no longer on a wooden surface in front of the fire. Judging from the feeling, I’m still wrapped up in Hosea’s scarf…and it’s dark. One surface I’m resting against is moving steadily. Occasionally I can hear a deep thump.

I try to adjust my position to get more information. I hear a questioning hum reverberate above me. A sliver of light above me widens. As my eyes adjust to the light, I see the towering figure of Hosea. I unconsciously attempt to retreat.

“Mornin’ Ollie,” he smiles as he looks down at me.

I look around. As well as being wrapped up in his scarf, he also had me under his coat. That explains the movement and the thumping.

“Morning,” I mumble in return.

I cover my eyes and hide back into the scarf, whining about bright light. Hosea’s chuckle rumbles through his chest as I feel the woollen material close around me. I brace myself as I feel my confines move.

“You have an explanation due,” I hear Hosea’s voice almost directly outside.

I emit a grumpy ‘no’ sound and burrow further into the scarf.

“Are you going to continue this stubbornness?”

“Yah huh.”

“Just my luck,” he mutters with a sigh.

Honestly, now I kind of feel sorry for him. I scrabble my way to the open part of the bundle, only to pull part of the scarf over my head like a hood due to the cold air nearly freezing my ears off.

“I can’t tell you what’s going on, because I don’t rightly know,” I admit with a shrug.

“How is that possible?” Hosea raises an eyebrow.

I think about this. Should I tell this giant stranger about myself? He did admit that he and his friends were outlaws. Outside, there’s wolves, bears, and a blizzard. Inside, a whole lot of giant outlaws. My question is, which is more dangerous? Well, if these guys wanted to kill me, I’d be dead already.

“Because two days ago, I was human.”

A brief look of disbelief crosses Hosea’s features.

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Your pointed ears were off putting.”

“My what?!” I exclaim.

Hosea looks confused, then smiles.

“You obviously haven’t seen yourself in a mirror, have you?”

“Uhhh, no. I woke up with my hotel bed the size of a barn and lit a shuck anywhere else. No time to preen,” I admit, hesitantly moving my working arm to one of my ears.

They’re pointed, as Hosea said, but much longer and stick out. At my surprised realization, they twitch upward.

Hosea chuckles softly and my ears flick at feeling the exhalation of his breath.

“At least you’re entertained,” I grumble.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up in Colter?”

“I stowed away in someone’s satchel. Turned out he was an O’Driscoll. Not my best decision.”

“An O’Driscoll? Do you remember which way they were heading?”

I try to recall what direction the horseman was going.

“Uh, North East, I think.”

“Ah, we’ve already run into them,” a dark look passes briefly over Hosea’s face.

“What about your arm?” any sour attitude regarding the O’Driscoll’s has gone.

“Oh, the horse bucked. I landed badly, then staggered over here for shelter.”

“How are you still unconvinced that I was human?” I ask on seeing Hosea’s dubious expression.

“It sounds too simple.”

I shrug off my makeshift hood and go to search my bag, but I don’t have it.

“Where’s my satchel?”

I’m sure I had it with me.

Hosea shifts me to one hand then rummages through his pocket and pulls out my bag. It’s positively dwarfed in his palm. I move one hand to take it from him, then reconsider. I just spill out the contents.

“If I wasn’t human, all that would be too much of a coincidence,” I gesture to the two food tins, my journal, and a small amount of coins.

Hosea raises his hand closer to his face to inspect the items.

“Awake already, old friend?” Dutch enters the room with a booming greeting.

“Just talkin’ to little Ollie here,” I feel my ears flick in irritation at the nickname Hosea just referred to me as.

“What have you found out about our latest acquisition?”

“Used to be human. Ended up in Colter by accident,” Hosea answers, passing Dutch the stuff I had poured into his hand.

He inspects the items before placing them back into the bag.

“And how is Ollie feeling?” Dutch hands me my satchel.

“I’m a tiny human with a broken arm and a thin coat in a blizzard. I’ve had better days.” I grumble.

I recoil as Hosea brings his other hand up, but he only rearranges his scarf to cover my shoulders.

“At least you’re no longer stuck outside alone,” he smiles.

With that in mind, this isn’t one of my worst days.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Hosea had left the cabin to discuss something with the other gang members, something about another missing member. I kept myself busy by reading…trying to at any rate, the book Hosea always has.

When you had no-one to teach you as a child, it’s a hard thing to teach yourself. I’m no exception. I understand enough to know it’s a crime story. It doesn’t take long for me to focus all my attention on reading.

 My ears flick as I feel a short gust of warm air from behind me and a familiar chuckle.

“Sorry, probably should have asked you first,” I mutter, grabbing the cover of the book to close it.

I’m stopped by Hosea’s massive hand over mine. I track my eyes up his arm to look up at his face. He’s kneeling next to the small table.

“I would never have taken you for a reader,” he says with a smile.

“Uhh, I can’t read…not very well anyway,” I admit.

He takes the book, marking the page with his finger and puts his other hand out in front of me.

“C’mon Ollie,” he urges.

“Why?” I ask cautiously, slowly backing away.

“Because you’ll freeze to death like that.”

I look down at myself. I hadn’t realized the scarf was no longer over me.

“Oh,” is all I can say as I shiver.

I give a squeak of fright as Hosea wraps his massive hand around me. I struggle to escape his grasp as he lifts me off the table.

“If you keep squirming, I might drop you,” he warns softly.

“I’m trying not to hurt you.”

That’s kind of true. I notice that his grip isn’t actually tight. More of a secure hold trying to avoid my splinted arm.

My stomach drops as Hosea stands up and I grab onto his finger with one arm, holding on for dear life. He takes a step to sit down in a chair in front of the fireplace. He leans back slightly as he settles into his seat. His fingers loosen and I drop the short distance, landing on the fur lapel of his jacket. I barely have time to get my bearings before his hand pins me down. I try to wriggle out from under his hand.

“Shh, just relax. You need rest with your injured arm, and you are going to freeze without intervention,” his voice rumbles through his chest.

My next sentence is interrupted as the cabin door opens. It’s not Dutch or Arthur, but an older man with glasses. Hosea quickly places his other hand over me, concealing me from the new arrival, though I can just see through the slight gap in his fingers.

“Ah, good evening Herr Matthews,” the new man greets in a thick accent.

I’m guessing German maybe. As he turns to close the door, Hosea closes both hands around me. I register upward movement then I’m dropped onto his shoulder. Specifically, between his shirt and coat collar. He wraps his scarf carefully around, then stands up. I grab his coat in fright.

“Evenin’ Herr Strauss,” Hosea’s booming voice echoes in my ears.

“I’m vondering vhen we are getting off zis mountain. I’m sure zhe others are curious about zhis also,” Herr Strauss says as he attempts to rub some warmth back into his arms and hands.

“We have to be extremely careful, Strauss. Pinkertons are still crawling all over the state.”

Pinkertons?! What did this gang of outlaws do? And what have I landed myself into?

“I know. I’m just anxious, is all,” Strauss replies.

I don’t register the pounding of hoofbeats until Strauss is already at the window.

“Zhere back. Wit John. Mein Gott, he looks awful,” he exclaims.

Hosea took the opportunity while Strauss was distracted to take me off his shoulder and put me into the small drawer of the end table, then gesturing ‘shush’, before following German outside.

That was…weird.