Work Text:
Prologue
On a dusty, worn-out rode was a covered wagon pulled by two tired horses. Their driver, the first brother, sits as his eyes scanned the perimeter around him. Tired, but alert, his eyes looked up and down the twilight bathed road. His blue eyes would move slowly from the wilderness on his left, to the road in front of him to the wilderness to his right. His body was tense, as if waiting for danger to come at him from the bushes at any minute. His ears trained to hear any sound of disturbance from either the birds or the sound of a twig snapping.
Though his gloved hands clutched onto the reins, the tension in the muscle of his arms were ready to grab the two pistols in their holsters. Or the bolt action rifle that laid at his feet.
A lit lantern hung from a post of the wagon, the only source of light to help guide them as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.
In the back of the wagon, watching from the rear was another occupant. The second brother. His black hair was askew and dusty. From the wind and the dirt the wagon wheels kicked up. His clothes were disheveled and torn. His blue eyes were wild - but held an intense concentration - as he scan the scenery as the wagon mad its way down the road. He clutched an old shot gun tightly in his hands. Ready to take aim at anything or anyone that dares to attack the wagon with his brothers inside of it.
Inside the wagon, was the few crates and supplies this small family had left and the third brother, his normally neat hair was mismanaged and his bangs hung from his forehead. He sits beside a sniper rifle, that leaned against the walls of the wagon. His glasses sits on the tip of his nose. As he gazed down at the bundle wrapped in a wool blanket. Was the fourth brother. The youngest brother.
Curly black hair sat upon his head, as his older brother brushed his head soothingly, he clutched a stuff toy. A unicorn. Something his mother had hand made for her son. The little boy lifted his hand to stare at the heart shaped locket in his hand. He smiles, a tired but sad smile. As his light blue eyes stared at the locket.
“Hush falls the evening
And tickles the bell.
One freckle, three freckle, four.”
The youngest brother glance up from the locket to stare at the third brother, who started to sing softly.
“Hush falls the evening
And tickles the bell
Love, close your eyes There are stories to tell.”
His brother sung, the little boy snuggles closer to his chest, comforted by the warmth of the older boy, he closed his eyes and starts to drift to sleep as his brother continues to sing.
“Troubles and marks and sakes to keep
Blow out the candle and got to sleep.”
The sound of a distant church bell cut into the air, alerting the brothers, that they have arrived at another town. The first brother moved a reign over to his other hand and reached his arm inside the wagon. His hand open as he waited expectedly. His third brother knowing what he wanted opened a satchel that was beside him to pull out a folded piece of parchment.
He, dutifully, hand it to the awaiting hand. Which grabbed it and pulled out into the open. The elder brother halted the horses so he could open the piece of paper to reveal a map.
He held it under the lantern so he can see the map better, hoping they went to the right town. As the first brother read the map, the third continued his lullaby.
“I hang the moon that looks to the west
Tied to your pillow and twice 'round your chest
Should the sky thunder and should the stars mist
Water the branches that sprout from your wrist.”
The third finished the lullaby as he listened to the steady breathing of the little brother. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he watched the boy sleep, but he was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a prod of paper being jammed onto his cheek.
He grabbed it and glared at his oldest sibling, who had already turned away, with a click of his tongue and the whip of the reins. The horses started moving again. Heading toward the town in question.
Just one more town to go.