Chapter Text
The train took her further west. The caravan of train cars rumbled away from the grimy port cities that lined the coast of the whole country, into the rolling hills that were as ancient as they were green. She leaned against the trembling shell of the train car, letting her tired, blue eyes drag along the rounded mountains that raced outside the window. Flowing rivers wound around the forests lined by cottonwoods fresh with springtime leaves. She wondered which ones he had gone to yet. Then, the train cut into a dark cave.
Seeing her reflection in the window, Bluestar smoothed out the gray-blue fur on her face with a paw. She dusted off her clothes, noticing the glint of a silver star pinned to her chest. She pricked it from her body, holding it before her eyes as sunlight blasted through the windows once more.
Sheriff, it read, of Thunder, Virginia.
Bluestar tucked it into a pocket, hiding its prestigious shine from the world. She might as well call herself Bluefur again. Out here, she was no constable, not until the train took her back east. If things went her way, she would return with one more cat by her side. She dug into another pocket, this one stitched near her heart, feeling an all too familiar fold of paper. Taking it into her gentle claws, she unfolded it.
Until our rivers meet again. Love, Oakheart. November 10th, 1890.
Turning the paper around, Bluestar saw the beautiful image she only allowed herself to see once a year in fear that the emotions it carried would dry like a creek in the summer. The paper carried the memory of a tom, pictured in a flowing stream with a fishing rod in hand. Bluestar could smell the fresh water and earth that was buried in the city she had left him for. His smile faced the camera she had used. His eyes squinted under the shine of the sun that reflected off the river. Bluestar felt her heart melt into her soul. She valued this smile as she valued heaven, as she valued any smile that had appeared on his wide, brown-furred face.
No, the sheriff suddenly decided, folding the paper and returning it to her pocket. Within this day, I’ll see his smile in its truth. After so many years, I will see my Oakheart again.
“And who might this be?” came an unknown voice, deeper than the coal mines of this state.
Bluefur’s stare, loaded in defence, shot to the man who had materialized by her side with an outstretched hand. Her eyes had to rise to an incline to meet his. They were a shining orange against the muted darkness of the late-night dance hall. The hulking brown-furred tom seemed nerved by her glare and began to slowly lower his outstretched hand.
“Oh, Oakheart,” spoke the voice Bluefur had been holding a conversation with. “This is Bluefur. She’s a constable visiting from Thunder.” Crookedjaw motioned his hands to the still glaring she-cat. “Bluefur, this is my brother, Oakheart.”
Bluefur allowed her dense expression to lighten slightly. She grasped Oakheart’s heavy hand with a clap that was suffocated against the booming music of the hall and shook it firmly before he could react, taking control over his gesture. In response, Oakheart dipped his head with the rim of a fishing hat between the fingers of his free hand.
“I apologize if I intruded,” Oakheart said, his voice clearer than the cacophony of the dance hall. “I was just so surprised to see my little brother talking to such a beautiful lady!”
Crookedjaw elbowed his brother, looking to Bluefur with embarrassment. “I’m the older one,” he glared up to his brother. “That’s the truth.”
Oakheart conceded with a dip of his head, hiding his eyes under his fishing hat for a moment. “That’s why I said little, not younger.”
Crookedjaw groaned as he stepped past the two cats. “I’ll check on Mother, make sure she’s moderating herself this time.” He offered a curt bow to the she-cat he had met today. “Good to meet you, Constable.”
Bluefur dipped her head in response, but did not find any emotion in her mind as the tomcat disappeared through the noisy crowd. He was friendly, like everyone in this hidden town. But she was not here to make friends, she thought as she took a brief swig from the drink in her paw. This was supposed to be a few-day excursion into a realm where no one knew her or expected anything of her. A pattern of calm noise to distract her from the chaos that would be crying for her help back in Thunder.
The constable had forgotten about Oakheart’s presence until he spoke again, standing at her side to watch the waltzing crowd flow around itself in the core of the old building. “Constable, huh? Are you chasing down some outlaw?”
Bluefur snorted through her nose at a volume the tom would not hear. She did not want to talk, but she wanted less to be rude to the people who welcomed her into their town. “I’m no ranger. I’m just taking time for myself.”
“Huh,” Oakheart grumbled. “River, West Virginia is some place to go to for that. Not a lot to do out here.”
Bluefur gave a lazy shrug. “I just took a random train. I’m sure I’ll find something to do, maybe go fishing.” Her final comment forced a smirk on her muzzle.
“Fishing?” Oakheart’s grin was hidden beyond the she-cat’s vision. She could hear it in his voice. “If you know how to fish out here, you can get all you’ll ever need to eat. Save some money.”
Bluefur acknowledged his words with a tip of her head. He was just being nice. Anyone would have something better to do.
“I know all the best places ‘round here, too. I can take you to ‘em.”
Finally returning the large tom’s gaze, Bluefur found such a warmth that only the coal of these mountains could give off. If she were to stay in River for as long as she planned, it may be advantageous to make at least one friend. She nodded her head, but quickly turned to the greater dance hall first to avoid whatever his reaction would be.
“Well, if I’m going to share all of my secret fishing spots, I’ll need something in return.”
Great, Bluefur snapped in her head as she clenched her drink. She should have known better. No kindness is for free. Whatever this tom wanted, he would have to get a few shards glass through his shirt before he would get it. The blue-gray she-cat dared to look back, ready to reel from whatever conniving grin he had plastered on his face. What she saw instead brought a wave of ease to her defensive mind.
Smiling like a care-free child, Oakheart faced the town stranger with his entire body. One paw was held out to the she-cat. Instead of his pads facing the wall like before, it now faced the ceiling, holding the small scars made from years of fishing hook nicks under the light. “Could I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Bluefur’s eyes traced a few healed scars on his pads before looking back to his amber eyes. She let a smirk cross her muzzle that curled her eyes with amusement. “As long as you can keep up.” The constable broke past his hand and gripped his wrist, a habit formed from arresting city thieves, though she assumed the tom would find it charming. Bluefur dragged Oakheart into the rolling tide of the dancing townspeople, using her skill of weaving through busy city streets to place herself under the burning lights. She spun around, yanking Oakheart towards her and gripping his other wrist. If this man thinks he can charm me because he thinks he’s strong, Bluefur thought with an impish sneer, he better prove it.
Oakheart settled his feet into the planks of the ground. His face found its composure, too, returning the she-cats challenging leer.
Bluefur scoffed away a prick of endearment that lodged in her throat. Her hands slid over Oakheart’s, forcing one out to the side, and stepped into the rhythm of the Appalachian waltz. Bluefur did not spare the tom’s confidence; she instantly settled into a complicated performance that weaved around the dance floor like a coiling snake. Bluefur was able to mentally track each stumbling waltzer that surrounded her and Oakheart with her sharp ears; her days as a constable had given her exceptional reaction speeds that allowed her to yank the heavy tom to safety whenever a nearby patron’s dance mutated into a stumble. Oakheart’s muddy boots stamped into the floor with every attempt to keep his balance, though he managed to hold his eyes to the she-cat’s. He soon understood the pattern of her waltz, now matching each of her steps with his own. Oakheart gave off a goofy yet bright smile. Bluefur rolled her eyes, but could not fight off a smile that was more honest than mocking from curling around the edge of her muzzle.