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The campfire snapped and hissed, its embers spitting into the night like tiny, fleeting stars. Levi sat cross-legged on the ground, a gnarled stick in his hands, its bark rough against his calloused fingers. He turned it over, idly tracing the knots with his thumb, as if they might hold answers to the unease coiling in his gut.
Across the fire, Pete hunched over his canvas bag, needle flashing in the firelight as he stitched a tear with deliberate care. His low hum - a tune Levi could almost place, something from a half-forgotten saloon or childhood porch on the edge of his memory - drifted through the stillness of the cold night air, mingling with the rustle of the pine needles overhead.
Above them, the sky was coal-black, pierced by stars. The moon hung pale and watchful between the branches, casting the forest in silver light. Levi tried not to think about what the forest would look like in the morning - how the bright sunlight would look as it spilled over a bloodied clearing.
Because, come sunrise, they were going to kill Sasquatch.
The thought landed heavy, like a stone in still water. Levi’s fingers tightened around the stick, the wood creaking faintly. Their plan felt like a rope stretched taut, ready to snap at the slightest movement.
Levi didn’t know much about the man sitting across the fire, not really. A few weeks of shared campfires, traded stories, and the kind of trust and friendship that was born from necessity rather than time. Pete was the one with the plan here, and Levi was the one who was just blindly following and hoping it all worked out. It was Pete who’d packed the dynamite, mapped the traps, scoped out the trail. Levi didn’t even know where Pete had gotten half of it all. If the plan worked, they’d have a pelt worth a fortune. If it didn’t - if a ranger spotted them, or worse, if the Sasquatch broke free - Levi didn’t like to think about the consequences. Silverwood Jail was one thing. An angry creature, half-myth, half-nightmare, was another.
The fire popped, sending a spark drifting toward the sky. Levi watched it fade, his breath fogging in the crisp air. The forest around them was alive with small sounds: the distant hoot of an owl, the creak of branches swaying in the wind, the faint trickle of a stream somewhere beyond the trees. It was a deceptive calm, the kind that made you forget how quickly things could turn.
He shifted a bit, his boots scuffing the dirt, and glanced at Pete. The man’s face was half-shadowed, his jaw set as he worked, his brow creased with concentration as he worked the needle and thread through his well-used bag.
"Pete..?" Levi spoke, his hesitant voice sounding much louder than usual in the quiet of the forest, "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot, partner." Pete didn't pause in his work, but he did tilt his ear in Levi's direction.
"I was just wondering..." Levi hesitated, the stick in his hands suddenly feeling too small, too fragile. He’d been carrying the question for days, maybe weeks, but the weight of what they would do tomorrow made it impossible to hold back any longer. "Why did you get into poaching?"
Pete paused, thread held taut between his fingers. His mouth tightened. For a moment, Levi thought he’d overstepped.
"You don’t have to answer," Levi rushed out, heat creeping up his neck. "I just- sorry, I didn’t mean to-"
"It's fine, you're fine, Levi." Pete set the bag down, deliberate, like he was setting aside something heavier than canvas. He leaned back, elbows resting on his knees, and looked across the fire. His eyes caught the light, sharp and searching, but there was a softness there too, a crack in his usual bravado. "I didn’t start out wanting to be a poacher, you know. Ain’t many who do."
Levi nodded, staying quiet, afraid to break the moment. Pete’s gaze drifted to the fire, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, rougher, like he was pulling the words from somewhere deep.
"I was on track for college, back home. Veterinarian, that was the plan. Loved animals growin' up - still do, funny enough. Used to patch up strays, nurse ‘em back to health, carried them around in my shirt pockets to keep them warm. Thought I’d spend my life doing that." Pete paused, his jaw tightening. "But... I got a little sister, back home. She’s been real sick since she was a kid. Bad lungs, the kind that don’t get better. Our ma’s doing what she can, but our old man walked out when I was fifteen, left us with nothing but a pile of debts and a broken-down farm that costs more than it gives. Medicine costs more than we ever had, and college... well, that was a dream I couldn’t afford, not when my sis needed me."
Levi’s chest ached, the stick in his hands forgotten. He thought of his own family, scattered somewhere miles away, his letters to them all unanswered, their faces fading with time. "I’m sorry, Pete," he said, the words feeling too small. "I’ll keep her and your ma in my thoughts."
Pete’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Thanks, kid. You’re a good one." He leaned forward, stoking the fire with a stick of his own, sending a flurry of sparks upward. "This job - poaching, running heists - it’s quick money. Ral dirty, sure, but it keeps my sister's medicine paid for. I’m hoping this Sasquatch pelt, or maybe a train job if we don't get the beast, will land me enough to set ‘em up proper. Get myself out of this life, find something steady. Something that don’t make me feel like I’m selling pieces of myself every damn day."
Levi swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to say something - something about how Pete deserved better than this, how maybe there was some good luck right around the corner - but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he managed a grin, leaning into the lightness he knew Pete responded to. "Well, if we spot a train tomorrow, I bet a few passengers could be persuaded to part with some coin. For a poor, unfortunate child in need, right?"
Pete’s grin came quick, sharp and wide as always. "Ah, yeah, and if they ain’t feeling generous, we can always just encourage ‘em a little." His hand slid to the holster at his thigh, the revolver’s silver catching the moonlight. "Right?"
Their laughter rang out through the trees, sudden and sharp in the stillness. It didn’t last long, but for a moment it cut through the weight of what tomorrow held.
Levi hoped that they wouldn't have to injure anyone in this big heist, but he wouldn't deny that the idea of prancing around waving a gun and making demands did excite him. Honestly, it scared him, how much he liked it sometimes. How it made him feel bigger than the kid who’d been turned away from every honest job in Idaho.
"What about you, Levi?" Pete asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. He’d picked up the bag again, resuming his stitching, but his eyes flicked up, curious. "You’re young, got a good head on you. Don’t seem the type to be out here, skinning bison and dodging rangers. Another case of bad luck, I suppose?"
Levi’s smile faltered. He tossed the stick into the fire, watching it catch, the flames licking higher. "Yeah. Didn’t want this either," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I love animals too. Used to dream of working with ‘em, maybe as a ranger, out here where it’s just you and the wild. But turns out dreams don’t pay for food or a roof. Just like you, it's the only job there is for me. I tried everything - waiting tables, sweeping stables, I even begged a magician to let me be his assistant once." He snorted, the memory sharp with embarrassment. That job request had been a last resort, and Levi could admit that he was actually glad that the magician had turned his nose up and declined. Apparently, it was a family-only business. "He laughed me out the door and down the block."
Pete chuckled, shaking his head. "A magician’s assistant? Really?"
Levi’s cheeks warmed, but he pressed on. "When you found me, I was sleeping in alleys, scraping by on nothing. You offering me a spot with you - it was the first time in months I didn’t go to bed hungry. Didn’t have to wonder where I’d sleep next." He looked down, tracing a line in the dirt with his boot. "I hate the killing. The bison, the elk... it twists me up inside. But it’s all I got right now."
Pete’s hands stilled again, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter, steadier. "Yeah... you’re better than this life, Levi, I can tell. Don’t let it fool you into thinking this is all you’re worth."
The words hit harder than Levi expected, like a punch he didn’t see coming. He looked away, toward the stars, their cold light blurring as his eyes stung. He wanted to believe Pete, wanted to believe there was something else out there for him. A life where his hands weren’t stained with blood, where he didn't have to worry about spending years behind bars.
"Tell you what, let’s make a deal," Pete said, his voice cutting through Levi’s thoughts. He stretched his hand over the dying fire, the flames casting shadows across his weathered palm. "If either of us makes it rich - Sasquatch pelt, train heist, whatever - we pull the other one up. Get out of this mess together. No more poaching, no more running."
Levi stared at Pete’s hand, the calluses and scars telling a story of years spent fighting for something better. He reached out, his own hand trembling slightly, and clasped Pete’s in a firm shake. "Deal," he said, his voice steady despite the lingering ache in his chest. "Hopefully, after tomorrow, we won’t even think of the word ‘poaching’ again."
Pete chuckled as he picked up the bag he had set aside earlier, nodding his head as he resumed sewing. "Yeah? That's the dream kid, that's the dream..."
As Pete put the finishing touches on what he would need for tomorrow, Levi moved from the fire and settled onto his bedroll. As he watched the night sky, his mind was filled with thoughts of working a job that wasn't poaching.
"That’s the dream," Levi echoed Pete's words quietly as he lay on his side, watching the stars shift between the pine branches and listening to Pete hum that strange little tune again as he worked.
When this job was over - or, at least if it ended with them alive and flush with coin - Levi thought maybe he’d try his hand at something honest. Not flashy, not dangerous.
Maybe he could be a train tour guide.