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The coolness of the rock walls battled with the small but lingering heat from the diminishing campfire in front of Ben. The campfire’s flames wither, but stay strong from the lack of wind passage in the cave. The crackling of the scarce timber mildly illuminates the darkness of the cave. The desert outside is cold, unforgiving, and harsh.
Ben, for one, is thrilled to have a place to hide away from those conditions. As he lies back against the wall, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he finally feels some peace for the first time in a while. He just returned from a 3-day-long scout, sneaking into nearby towns, gathering food, supplies, and checking just how screwed he really was. This cave felt like a sanctuary, and sitting down to relax, almost letting his guard down, really beat the whole... Running from the law thing he’s got going for him.
Keyword. Almost.
Ben hears movement from his right and lazily peeks open one eye, only to see a woman with brunette hair loosely braided, sleeves rolled up, and a bow and arrow by her side. The small light of the fire briefly lights up her face, and Ben is immediately at ease. He smiles slightly, compared with her eyebrows knitting together, and a small frown appears on her face.
“You’re back.” She says, quietly, stepping towards him and setting her bow down. As she steps closer, her expression is easier to read, her face lit with worry, but slight relief.
“Sure am. Did ya miss me?” He teases, leaning up and looking at the woman approaching him. Dahlia. He hopes she missed him as much as he missed her.
Ben’s met with silence. Dahlia has gotten closer to him, and if anything, looks more worried than she did when she thought some stranger was in their hideout. Her lips pressed together, and her eyes raced back and forth, looking at him. Ben rose to his feet, closing the distance between them further, and he looks at her reassuringly.
“No, I wasn’t followed. No, I wasn’t caught, and no, I ain’t hurt. “ He states, knowing exactly what was going on behind those pretty eyes of hers. She hums, still a little wary. She gives him one last look, making sure he truly wasn’t injured. When her eyes meet his again, a dopey smile crosses Ben’s freckled face. “I promise, Dahlia, I’m alright.” He reassures, watching her finally relax at his words.
Content with this, Dahlia looks at him for a second longer before heading over to the, somehow, still lit, campfire. “Have you eaten?” She asked, softly, feeding the fire with some spare wood. “Nothin’ good,” He states, recalling his can of offal and stale-ass crackers he had earlier in the day. “You cookin’?” Ben questions, but is answered with Dahlia raising a pot over the flame, stirring the beans inside with a small knife. He nods, joining her across the fire, kneeling and pulling out his own knife, adjusting the firewood to support the flames under the pot. They sit in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company. The fire flicks, sparks raising up, heating their dinner. The warmth from the fire comforted them both, giving some semblance of a camp, a home.
“ I can’t wait to get you a real stove,” Ben mutters after a few minutes. Bashful, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you got stuck runnin’ with me, it ain’t fair on you.” Although he’s trying his best to take care of them both, he feels embarrassed. Dahlia must have been accustomed to fancy dinners, a comfortable bed, and, above all, a real home. Dahlia looks up at him, taking the pot off the heat, setting it aside. “That gives us a goal, doesn’t it?” She affirms. “I chose to come with you. Would you rather I hadn’t?” She asks, genuinely. “ No- Of course not-” Ben stumbles. “I wouldn’t trade you- your company for the world. You just deserve to be treated and provided for well, this life.. It's hard to promise that for you.” Ben sighs.
“You’re doing rather well so far.” Dahlia is suddenly knelt beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder, timidly. Her touch is a godsend. A perfect accompaniment to her assurance. He smiles at her softly, and she returns the same sentiment. Their connected gaze lingers for a while before she rips her eyes away from him, as she rises to collect a pair of silver shallow bowls and spoons. She begins scooping their portions into them, handing Ben his. He smiles, taking it, and they both enjoy the warm meal in a relaxing peace.
As the wind settles down outside, the fire dimming from their dinner, and stars shining ever so bright in the sky, Ben leans back against the cool rock wall once more. He lies on a wool blanket, his satchel and hand pistol laid beside him. To his right, Dahlia joins him, yet leaves around a 3-foot distance between them. He’s not discontent with this arrangement; he understands, she needs her space to be comfortable, and he’s alright with that. What he's not alright with, though, was Dahlia rubbing her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm herself up. Even though the desert had harsh, hot days, the nights were freezing. He watches her for a moment, noticing how she warms herself slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, the blanket laid on her lap not doing much to warm her. But Ben notices. He always does. He sits up, taking his jacket off his shoulders, and placing it in front of Dahlia. “Take it,” He states. “Won’t do any good hiding here if the coyotes can hear your teeth chatterin’.” He jests, going back to his original sitting position. He watches Dahlia, hesitate, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt before grabbing his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. The warm wool lining it instantly relieving her from her shivers. Ben smiles contently, pulling his hat down over his closing eyes, and crossing his arms, relaxing back to start dozing off.
A few moments pass, but he is disturbed by a rustling noise near him. He peels one eye open, watching Dahlia settle closer to him, bringing her blanket over herself, and almost bringing it over Ben’s lap, but stopping, dropping it half on his thigh, and her hands returning to herself,not wanting to overstep. He notices her eyes dart away, nervously. Ben smiles softly, silently taking a little more of the blanket, but not scooting closer. He closes his eyes again, contently starting to doze off.
Dahlia on the other hand. Is flushed. She cannot believe she did such a bold move. And that he accepted it.
He accepted it.
She bites her cheek, her hands fiddling with the blanket as they relax onto the shelter’s floor. The fires crackle getting quieter, the cave getting darker. The whips of wind from the entrance of the cave dull, falling into background noise. Dahlia’s eyelashes flutter closed as the ambience, which was becoming familiar, lulls her to sleep.