Chapter Text
Nico di Angelo never really fit in with others.
Not that he did not try—he had; endlessly, and for years. They never did mesh well, and he had found his peace in that.
And now he was crouched by one of his only waist-heighted gardening beds. The rest of the plants all in pots or the ground that made his back ache endlessly whenever he had to tend or harvest.
He was inspecting the wooden legs of it, well cared for but beginning to rot nonetheless—as all things do.
He sighed, wiping his forehead despite the fact his hands were dusty and dirt-streaked from repotting herbs. He tsk’d twice. “Sicily,” he said, “Grab me that water.” giving a quick whistle and snap of his fingers.
The gray wolf, dozing under her favorite oak tree that was central to his little clearing of forest—like a fountain in a park, or the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden.
Sicily perks to alertness at her name. A look of contemplation covered her face before she decided to stand and trot over to the other side of his cottage, coming back with his watering can in her jaw.
“Thanks, Sicily.” He said with a quick pat to her head. She chuffed and growled in pleasure before trotting off and going back to her afternoon nap. For such an active creature, she loved to laze about whenever she wasn’t off exploring the woods for hours or days on end.
He finished off the stand he had just weeded by watering it, waiting until it was thoroughly dripping at the bottom before stepping back. The area smelled strongly of basil and parsley, two of his favorite scents. The lavender too was also wafting into the air, a surprisingly strong scent for it being meters away.
Though, for those few good-smelling herbs, many of his pots and space was filled with medicinal roots and leaves. It was how he made his living, after all.
He turned around and wiped his hands on his pants, already brown in the knees from mud, so a bit of extra grime couldn’t hurt. “Venice!” He called, not even looking around before grabbing up the loose rope from by the door and his satchel, already full of dried herbs and roots.
The clacking of hooves followed by a low snort announced the presence of his mare, Venice. Her black coat was shiny and moved around her lean but muscled frame. Nico wasn’t sure exactly what breed she was—certainly part quarter horse, perhaps some Arabian in her. He had found her as a yearling, just wandering through the woods where he and Bianca lived, looking for food.
“Good afternoon, Vennie.” He pat her nose while securing his satchel and ensuring nothing was going to fall out. The rope he had grabbed was a loop with just a short tail end, easy to throw over the mare’s head and hold on.
Not that he’d use one if he could afford it, but he (And Venice) preferred to go bareback and bridleless, equally better suited for the ‘rogue’ and ‘loner’ life as he’d so often been told he lived.
He considered himself not lonely at all—he had a noble wolf, who was standing by his side currently, a gentle and brave mare. And a flock of crows he fed eggs and peanuts, and a few red birds who got to eat the seeds he didn’t use from the coneflowers and other medicinal things.
He by all means was not alone.
As he threw the rope over her head and stood on a rogue overturned bucket to hop on (He was a normal height—he was 1.7m, his horse was just insanely tall), he heard a growl from Sicily. He had learned what her different tones meant.
“Be patient. I will cook us some food when I get back. If you’re that hungry, go to the forest and find a rabbit or some sort.” Nico scoffed with an eye roll, steadying himself on the smooth back of his horse. She was a good companion, she did not move a step when he vaulted on, nor tightened the rope some, nor leaned off her side to pat Sicily’s head.
The wolf chuffed impatiently, trotting ahead through the forest. He knew she wanted to go with them. He usually let her follow until they began nearing town, for fear that the villagers would attack her if they saw a wolf encroaching.
Nico sighed in good nature. He could never be mad at his animals. Except when Sicily ate one of his newborn chicks (They were expensive, for only 4 to hatch!), or Venice stepped on his growing watermelon, or when…
He suddenly felt sad, but shook himself off and patted on the mare’s neck. She flexed her neck to show she acknowledged him, followed by a deep huff in her lungs.
He urged her on with a small squeeze of his heels and leaned forward, letting the rope hang loose as she picked her way through. By this point she needed no guidance, having learned the path despite it being overgrown from lack of use.
Every week or so, sometimes more often during the winter months, he traversed through the woods from his home to go to the town. Mostly he just needed a few things he could not grow himself—milk, flour, sugar, the likes. He was mentally tallying the cost and how much his gatherings would sell for—then he was jolted forward by Venice, who halted abruptly.
“Woah, Ven.” He looked around, glancing through the trees. Venice hardly spooked. He wondered if Sicily had perhaps dove under some bushes and startled her. But saw quickly the wolf was in the same position, rooted in place and glaring forward with bared teeth.
This was when Nico’s heart began to pick up some, and he quieted himself to listen. He realized that he heard the beats of another horse’s hooves.
He knew that further down the path, only a mile or so, was a cattle and wheat farm. He didn’t know much of them, only that he bought their milk in town because it was cheaper and better quality than the others. He wondered if that was them coming, perhaps with the intent to sell.
He hoped so; they always sold out so quick. Usually only coming with a few crates of flour and milk, which inevitably was bought quickly.
He only heard a single set of hooves though, which was odd for the four people that lived on the farm. That made him think perhaps it was a worker who had been paid to mill the crops or milk the cows.
He urged Venice forward and tsk’d Sicily on after a few minutes wait, hoping that the stranger had moved on far enough that they wouldn’t have to interact. Nico was not antisocial by any means, but any conversation he could avoid, he would.
It went smoothly. For all of fifteen seconds.
The two animals had their ears firmly forward to hear the pair in front of them, and immediately reacted when a voice reached back: “Is there anyone back there?”
Hell, Nico thought, sighing internally (and perhaps externally) and halting Venice with a light tug to the neck rope.
He was debating leaving them in silence and hiding somewhere for a few moments, but the male voice called again: “I have a gun, speak up.”
Fair point, Nico admitted to himself. He was a stranger on a path they probably thought deserted. They had no reason to think he wasn’t a murderer waiting in the trees for a victim to pass by.
“It’s just me. I’m a— um, a loner I suppose.” He couldn’t think of a better word to describe himself. “Just passing through to get to town.” He said as he pushed Venice forward. He made a shooing motion to Sicily, and a whistle which sent her off.
When he rounded the corner of the path, he saw that the mystery rider—a blond boy about his age or a bit older, much taller than him and on an even taller horse—was waiting there. And in fact, did have a gun at his hip.
The boy seemed to chuckle to himself and removed his hand from his weapon easily when he saw him. “Ah, ‘ay. Didn’t know anyone else took this trail.” He explained.
Nico urged his horse up beside the blond. “Didn’t expect you to.” He explained ominously.
Silence stretched uneasily. It was only filled with the clopping of hooves on dirt and the jingle of glass milk jugs in the other boy’s carrying bag.
Nico didn’t like making small talk but hated the silence more. Seemed did the other boy as well, considering how he kept shifting in his saddle and needlessly readjusting his feet and reins.
“How much for two milk and a medium flour?” Nico asked, as if he didn’t know it was four dollars.
“Ah- uh, it’s three dollars.” The kid said. He had a big bag of flour positioned over his satchel, with a smaller bag of sacks to redistribute in smaller quantities to people. It seemed to not be a full load, considering he had just 12 milk jars in his bag and probably only as many helpings of flour in the bag.
Nico hummed as if he hadn’t already decided he was going to buy some. He decided to have some fun.
“One.”
“What?” The other boy scrunched his eyebrows down at Nico. (It wasn’t THAT far. The chestnut was probably only half a hand taller than Venice…)
“Two dollars for the stuff.”
“What!? No. Three.”
“One and a half.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
Silence.
The sound of hooves on soil.
The jingling of glass.
More silence.
“…Okay.”
Nico smirked. “You barter?”
The boy groaned loudly. “I’m horrid at bartering prices! Ugh, what do you have?”
Nico turned his upper half to show off his satchel. “Medicinals.”
Will hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know their exact prices but I know they’re valuable.”
Nico pulled a single leaf off of a basil, “See, just this alone is twenty dollars. Truly, you’re getting a steal—“
“HA!” The blond barked a laugh so loud Nico almost threw his hands up to cover his ears. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to such a truly joyful thing. “That ain’t right.” He was still laughing, “Truly, how much do they sell for?”
Nico rolled his eyes back so far in his head, his sister would’ve warned him they were going to get stuck if he did it again. “‘Bout twenty for what I’ve got in this bag. Maybe twenty-five if I bargain right. I’ve got some of the best you’ll buy, see?”
The other boy on the chestnut horse whistles. “Ain’t too bad, not at all. I still ‘on’t believe you, though. Actual money?”
Nico rolled his eyes once more. “The one time I’m being honest…” he grumbled, rummaging in his bag. He had one coin in the inner pocket. He wielded it between his fingers and said “One milk?”
Will nodded. “Sure ‘nough.” He reached into his own bag and swapped the glass jug for Nico’s coin.
“Thanks.” Nico said. He wasn’t that desperate, but he knew since this boy only had a small amount of stock he was selling, it would go quickly.
“‘Course. Now, where’re you gon’ be putting that? Your satchel is full and you ain’t got a saddle or bridle on that thing.”
Nico snorted at how the boy’s southern accent intensified at the end of his sentence, all of the ‘i’s coming out more like drawled ‘a’s.
“You will watch and learn.” Nico said simply. He whistled and snapped his fingers with his free hand.
Earlier he had seen the bushes moving slightly behind them, and knew the wolf was nearby. She popped out and nearly scared the chestnut horse to death with the way she skittered to the side.
“Woah—“ The blond called and pulled back on the reins. Venice didn’t flick an ear. She was focused on him.
“Tsk tsk—casa, Sicilia.” Nico urged the wolf, placing the delicate glass bottle in the wolf’s gentle jaw. She took it and trotted off down the path where they came from. Her paws made little tread on the dirt, and even less noise until the bushes shifted when she made her leave.
“Holy Jesus—that was a wolf!” The boy on the other horse shouted, hand half to his gun since he had his equine under control again.
“Don’t you dare.” Nico nearly growled like the wolf, glaring at the other one. He turned Venice around, using the neck rope and urged her back forward.
The other seemed stuck between turning around and chasing after the rogue wolf, or continuing down the path. He chose the latter only a second later, breaking into a brief trot to catch back up to Nico.
“What in tarnation—was that a mix breed? How—what—I-“
Nico huffed. “Why would I tell you? You still look like you have half the mind to go back and shoot her between the eyes.”
The blond (Nico really needed to learn his name. Or not. He doesn’t really care.) seemed to let out a breath that was a mix of being punched in the guts and a scream. “Because I do! Wolves are dangerous! They eat your animals and maybe YOU too.” He readjusted the flour on his satchel, slightly skewed from when his mare had jostled at the sight of Sicily. “Is it a mix breed?” He asked again.
“Nope.” Nico popped the ‘p’ just to be annoying.
“That was a real wolf?”
“Yep”. Another pop. Nico liked being a bit annoying sometimes.
There was a few beats of silence.
“Her name is Sicily.”
The blond rubbed his face with one of his large, callused hands. “You named her?”
“Of course. All of my animals have names. This is Venice.” He patted her neck and she snorted in satisfaction from the attention.
“…Oookay. And your name?”
“Now why should I tell you that?”
The boy shrugged. “Not sure. I’m Will.”
Nico tsk’d. “Will.” He tested it on his tongue, and noticed the way he distorted the ‘i’ to sound more like a drawn out ‘e’—though he didn’t notice.
A pink tint dusted his cheekbones when Will laughed again. “Where are you from?”
Nico hummed. “Now why would I tell you that?” He said cheekily, with a small smirk his way while he shifted on his mare’s back.
Will, again, groaned as if he were a young child who wasn’t allowed to play outside in the rain. Nico couldn’t tell why precisely he was still acting somewhat twitchy—Sicily? Or something else?
The silence prevailed, and eventually they were at the outskirts of the village. Will hopped off earlier than Nico, fixing himself up and preparing his own horse to be tied to a hitching post.
The blond began to offer a hand to Nico to hop down, but Nico shook his head when Venice flicked an ear apprehensively. “I’m fine.” He said.
Venice drew nearer to the forest, and Nico dismounted fluidly—sometimes he reminded himself of a cat. Taking off the neck rope and throwing it across his body parallel to his satchel, a pat on Venice’s back sent her wandering into the forest, probably off to meander for nice grass. She never went far.
“Your horse—ain’t she gonna run away?” Will scrunched his eyebrows inward, holding a tighter grip on the chestnut’s reins as if she would get ideas and run away too.
“Yes and no.” Nico said, planning not to elaborate but feeling compelled to nonetheless for some odd reason. “She is walking away. She will not leave me—not indefinitely, at least. She will come when I call her.” Nico explained surely.
Will looked apprehensive, but wisely did not argue. They walked in tandem through the village market before parting ways, Will to set up stand for a quick buck and Nico to haggle some vendors to buy his herbs.
Nico pulled them out of his satchel, a nicely bound bunch tied with high quality twine that could be repurposed. As always, the vendors knew him well but never ceased their pursuit of success in low balling him. Really, he always sold for less than what anyone else would claim their worth, was it truly necessary?
As always, though, Nico won the fight. With a bag jingling with a good handful of coins that would ultimately be near fully spent just on the weeks worth of ingredients, he set through the market with the confidence of someone who couldn’t afford not to be.
He debated prices for more time than he would ever care to admit, going until a lot of places had already closed down. He made it out with two spare coins and enough flour, milk, sugar, baking soda and powder… enough to make his meals. And a little bit of chicken feed, since the vendor was giving samples and it looks good enough.
He was not surprised to find that the Will was gone, and probably has long been. He wasn’t going to miss the ‘company’ on the walk back, wholly and entirely done with doing things with ‘humanity’.
He whistled at the spot he left Venice, crouching on the dirt and rocking back and forth soothing while he waited. He knew Venice would have no problem carrying the extra load, and was grateful endlessly to his companion for tolerating him when he never forced her to.
Soon enough she came passing through the underbrush, twigs just beginning to snap against her hide with fall encroaching. She lowered her head to his, wiggling a lip in his hairline.
He softly brushed her jawline. Using her helpful neck, he wrapped an arm around and stood up effortlessly with her aid.
“Time to go home, il mío poco.” He hummed, setting the small bag of seed on her wither before vaulting up. After he settled, he tossed the neck rope over her head.
Nico pressed his heels in, urging her forward. The neck rope at this point was more commodity than anything, she knew the paths as steady as her heartbeat after the many long years they’d had together.
Somewhere along the dimming forest, another set of feet joined them. Sicily.
Nico glanced over and sure enough, the large grey wolf was just barely off of the beaten path. “Comer’, Sicily.” He snapped his fingers to signal she didn’t have to hide.
With a cute ear twitch, she hopped onto the flattened dirt happily, more content now to take the easy road next to him. She liked being hidden, but seemed to feel safe when she was next to him or Venice. It was odd, the relationship they had—he supposed it came with basically growing up together and forced to tolerate the others presence, that resulted in a sort of close love for the other.
He wondered if he’d ever receive anything like it.
He had no interest in romantic partners—not to say that some handsome men hadn’t caught his eye in the market once or twice that he would desperately wish to pursue—but that didn’t mean the thought or daydream didn’t pass over him from time to time.
Speaking of the daydreams that overtook him, that could leave his mind wandering in a place sometimes so deep that a howling wolf could not pierce, he blinked awake at the familiar footing of home.
Pat pat pat, Sicily’s paw puttered in the leaves. The chickens were making their last rustlings, awaiting to be safely locked in their house for the night time.
Nico dismounted, taking the bag of food from Venice and then the neck rope. “Good girl. Thank you.” He scratched along the front of her neck and chest appreciatively. “Come eat, amores.”
He scooped up the food for his animals to set in their respective feeders, latching the lock for the chickens and collecting their eggs on the way. Two eggs. He guessed only one today, so he lost. Sad.
“Goodnight, Sicily.” Nico pat her head. “Goodnight, Venice.” He ran a flat hand along her rump.
“Goodnight Julia, Sophia, Isabella.” He continued walking to his cottage, “Goodnight crows, goodnight birds.” He shuffled the rocks at his feet, “Goodnight spiders, goodnight bugs.”
Shutting his door, he used the measly light from the windows to find his matches and strike them on the box.
Finding his lanterns, they lit quickly and efficiently. Within minutes, his home was lit with firelight and the little fireplace/stove combo was warming it to his preferred temperature. Good.
He sighed, wanting to procrastinate the measly chore of putting away his days spoil, but knew better. It would only get worse and worse the more time passed. Get it done now, get to his routine, go to sleep.
With fluid motions, the satchel of items was put away in their correct places and his home felt full again.
He rinsed his face in his water basin, noting he needed to run to the town well again soon to fill his little tank. More chores. Fun.
Nico swept the floors now, briefly opening the door to the now slightly chilly outdoors to sweep it into the grass. He had it shut as quick as it had opened, not daring let any more of his beautiful warmth out.
His bed now called to him, whispering sweet nothings from its little corner of his cabin. Please, lay with me, it sung.
And who was he to resist such a tempting offer?
He changed his clothes into a loose nightshirt, his feet thankful for the clean ground as he made his way to his bed. Not before grabbing a book, of course.
A few women and men created a little library with lots of books that you could borrow for free, simply with the intent of returning them in a timely manner and in good condition. Nico found this boggling, having only heard of such thing just a few months ago since it was further into town than he ventured typically.
Of no doubt, though, it became his favorite place to visit in he village when he was feeling the itch of adventure. Adventure meaning fighting his inability to read at any swift pace, but adventure nonetheless.
He always had this struggle with words that he could never explain, as if the letters decided to invert themselves or twist on the page or frolic like newborn foals. He suspected it was deeper than English not being his native language, though many people said that was the cause.
He settled. Cracking the book open, some tale about gods and their children that competed in wild feats he’d yet to discover more than ten pages of, he soon felt his eyes leaden and at last, when the fireplace burnt out, sleep wrapped him softly.
***
This time, when Nico went back to the village 10 days later, it was Will who joined him on the path.
The milk-and-flour boy was heard from a long distance behind him, the clanging of glass obvious in the stark silence. It was good luck to Nico that his pack of mishaps was naturally quiet like him, because the blond seemed startled turning the bend to see them.
“—Oh.” Will started. Nico was already looking back to see his eyes flicker from him, to his horse, to the wolf pacing beside them.
A twitch of a finger. A hand instinctively trailing to a gun.
Nico dug his heel into Venice, the mare already beginning to turn around. “I told you before.” He glared. “Don’t you dare.”
Sicily stood to the side of Nico, but even then, felt too close to the antagonist across from him.
She did not bristle, but she was not relaxed. Tense, but not like she was about to attack. Eyes sharp, not hungry. Her ears were turned to Nico though, waiting for his cue.
The moment breathed, but only shallowly. Nico hardly dared. He would attack, he would. If he had to.
But relief. Will lowered his hands back to his reins.
“Keep your dog in line.” He said, tapping his feet in his stirrup to urge his own mare forward. “I’m reaching for my gun again. Just to cap it.” Will stated.
Nico stayed tense, just turning his head and horse to follow him. Will did as he said, closing the holster with finality, then continued back to the split reins.
Once they walked more, Nico finally let his fingers relax on the neck rope. “Tsk tsk- Casa, Sicilia.”
The wolf only hesitated long enough to sniff the air and glare uneasily at the blond again before splitting. Wisely, not in the direction of home. She would take a long route, then do as she pleased after she touched base.
Again, the awkward jingling of product and hooves aided their journey as like the first time. Once again, Will was the one to break it.
“Well trained dog.”
Nico scoffed. “She’s a wolf.”
Will shifted his stirrups and seat before clearing his throat. “I wouldn’t say that too close to the village.” Nico saw the glance the other snuck at him.
“Good thing we’re not close to the village, stupido.” He had half the mind to gallop off and dust this Will character with his own feet. He did not. Strength.
“Milk and flour.”
Will’s eyes flicked to Nico’s again, but this time stayed. Nico did not hold the eye contact, it felt like fire through his veins, running and bleeding into muscles and skin. He busied himself by grabbing two coins from his satchel—the leftovers from the last ride.
“Milk and flour.” He repeated monotonously.
Will nodded and took the coins, pocketing them before grabbing a milk jug and flour as asked.
Nico took the flour. “Hold onto the milk for me. Wait ‘til we’re on the way back. Or until you leave. Whichever comes first.” He had no room to put it. At least he could carry the flour.
“Okay.” Will replied apprehensively. “Do you want your money back?”
Nico rolled his eyes. Internally, he felt irrationally angry. He felt like he had something to prove, even though he should’ve just said yes and waited. Why did he care?
“No.” He rolled it off the tongue coolly.
Nico expected Will to break the silence again with some half-assed remark, but was both surprised and deeply unsettled in his marrow to the reverbing lack of noise.
His ears were ringing when the marks of humanity were becoming more obvious—little posts, fences, lights, well bordered trails… and to his relief, Will piped up at last.
“I’ll make sure I keep a milk hidden for you.” He promised. Nico was happy to hear something besides tree leaves and patting hooves.
When Will walked further into the town, still aback his chestnut mare, Nico felt the knots in his shoulders from the tension. Now alone at the edges, he was able to dismount without an audience and let Venice free from her human restraints.
“Go on, Venice.” He mumbled, a lingering stroke to her hide aiding her away. Time to barter.
***
The next time, just eight days later, their meeting was more advantageous to Nico.
He had waited along the side of the path, his little jut off where he was hidden, for five or so minutes until the familiar blond passed.
Once he was out of earshot up the path, only the faintest jingling of milk jugs audible, he split from his station and up the dirt.
At a quick canter, he made fast headway to the Will character.
“Holy Jesus—goodness sakes alive, you scared me.” Will gasped when seemed to suddenly appear at his side after thundering hooves.
Nico smirked. “Tends to happen.” He saw Will had his gun at his hip, as typical, but it was holstered and shut.
“You got your dog with you?” Will asked, seeing Nico’s eyes.
“Be quiet, wretch.” Nico scoffed. “Wolf.” He glanced to the side. “Not as close today.”
He told her to stay back. But of course, she was still lingering in the woods, ears deliberately pricked to listen to a sharp whistle or snapping fingers. Their bond ran deep, and even if he couldn’t see her, it was as if he could feel her in his spirit listening, waiting, intelligent.
Both of their mares nudged each other, lips wiggling in the others directions. Will patted his chestnut’s neck.
“I think I got your horse’s name. Venice?” Nico nodded in response. “Mines Chip. Short for Potato Chip.”
Nico couldn’t help the little grin that bore his face. Something about the way he said it just ignited a joy in him, an urge to actually laugh—however ridiculous.
“Now, why is that?” He hooded his eyes, making his tone soft as honey. His lips curled upward in the smirk that many called endearing when he was a child, before he became a force that was less to be complimented and more to be hesitantly friendly.
Will shifted in his saddle seat, turning to face forward instead of at him. “Not sure. I was maybe 4 when I named him.” Will shrugged nonchalantly.
“Chip.” Nico said in the same tone he said ‘Will’ on their first meeting.
To quickly brush it off, he gripped his satchel and held out two coins. “Milk and flour. Save the milk for after again.”
Last time, when Nico was done with his shopping and ready to begin the road home, he’d searched for Will’s typical market stand. In his place was an old woman sitting nearby and his reserved glass of milk. “He had to go, told me to give this to you.” She had handed it over without fuss, and he’d left.
He wasn’t disappointed. Not at all, would he be. There was no reason to be. He got his goods and was on his merry way.
Will nodded in exchange for the coins, giving Nico a bag of flour and tapping a glass jar. “Reserved for my loyal customer.” He grinned back at him.
Nico must still be hot from the embarrassment before. Will’s toned arms just looked more exaggerated because of the filtering light overhead. His jawline was just sharp that way because of a good diet. His jeans were just tailored to him perfectly so that’s why—
He cut himself off before he could spiral. He rubbed his palms in a self soothing motion together, then on his thighs, then his neck, ran fingers through his hair—
Ew. A bug. He flicked it off without thinking, and a fractured “Eugh—“ sounded from ahead of him.
“What in tarnation? Where’d this come from-“
Nico’s little giggle interrupted him, a sound that was choked back as fast as it came but wasn’t silenced quick enough.
“Oh, you-“
“Go! Vaí!”
Nico leaned forward and gently but firmly heeled into Venice, urging her forward. Eager, she galloped ahead fast and left them in their dusty wake.
Nico heard Will urge his mare forward too, behind from the head start but gaining.
Nico suspected there was ten minutes left until they made it, maybe four when galloping.
“Faster, faster!” He said, leaning forward evermore. Too close, the jingling of glass sounded like alarms in his ears.
Soon he was letting free and welcoming the wind in his ears and the lull of steady hooves take him when—
“Ow!” He yelped, gripping something slimy on his face. It didn’t hurt, but that was just his natural response. “Is that…”
“A worm.” Will grinned. “I win.”
“It wasn’t a competition…” Nico grumbled. He leaned over to place the worm as gently as he could on the ground while being over a meter in the air with no saddle.
Will smiled still, as if the sun itself was speaking into his mind, telling him exactly how to radiate the warmth for the earth. It felt to Nico like the giant star had leaned down to a smaller, insignificant one to grace its presence and tell him it would be okay—relax.
He attempted. He did not.
This Sun spoke to him. “You sure made it seem like you wanted it to be.” The Will guy straightened his back to regather his reins.
Nico took note of them. “You disgust me.” He sneered.
Will’s grin stayed, but it shifted from radiance of the solar system to something that toned back to playful. Nico was glad. He felt the sunburn setting in.
“I get that a lot.” He held together his wanna-be connected reins… but they were meant to be split. They were tied together.
“I want to be ill.” Nico looked away.
“Retch away. Won’t shake me from my wicked ways.”
“They were normal last time, why couldn’t you keep them normal…” He felt like his tone conveyed his broken heart well. Even to him it sounded like pure pain that was dipped in speech.
Will shrugged. “My rein habits change like the weather.” He pointed to the cloudy skies as if that proved something.
Nico was able to lean enough to shove Will slightly in his seat. “Shut up.”
“Second today, impressive.”
Nico almost forgot about the gun awaiting.
***
Again, ten days later, they were together on the dry dirt road kicking up sand.
“Hello, Nico.” Will said, expecting Nico to come behind him this time.
“Fancy seeing you again, cowboy.” Nico tipped his nonexistent hat, smile settled on his lips.
Will’s gun was gone.
“Oh, hush.” Will rolled his eyes.
He didn’t have his milk or flour on him.
“I’m glad I caught you again today—“
“What is wrong with you.”
Oh. Perhaps not the best thing to say. He didn’t mean to, it was just what came out…
No reason to take it back now.
Will blinked down at him. “Oh!” A pause. “Um.”
He ran fingers through his hair and patted his face and chest. “Is there something wrong with me?”
Nico shook his head twice in large sweeps. “No. I just meant.” He gestured to Will’s hip and empty surroundings. “You don’t have your gun or stock.”
Will made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth to signal his realization. “Ah.” He said stupidly.
Nico kind of wanted to punch him. He didn’t want to scare Chip, though. She and Venice seemed to like each other.
“Well,” Suddenly, Will seemed anxious. Immediately Nico braced, thinking he was about to don a secret weapon on him.
But no bad thing happened… depending on what you considered bad.
“I thought I would just tag along in the market with you. If that’s okay?”
***
Nico wanting to punch the sun was a recurring feeling.
He had no idea how to deal with this.
He knew external attraction, simply related to the pleasantry to the eyes—that was no big deal. It was nothing other than candy to gaze upon—something sweet but not needed.
Now, he had no idea what this Will Solace person was to him.
When he was walking the path and Nico met him, with a smile that said ‘I knew it’ and the easy posture of relaxation…
“You’re quiet.”
Nico blinked once, then twice, then thrice again for good measure because the radiance hurt.
Nico shrugged. “Thinking.”
Will turned away to look at the dirt road. “Me too.”
Nico raised a brow. “What thoughts are stirring up your brain, cowboy?”
Will rolled his eyes—something he’s done twice recently, and Nico had never seen it on him before.
“Uh. So.” He began. Nico’s mind tensed, but he kept his body at ease. It wasn’t as difficult of a feat as it had been in the past, weeks ago.
“I was wondering…”
Hooves on soil.
“If…”
Glass bottles clinking.
“I could see Sicily?”
Nico pulled back. Venice stopped.
Nico’s eyes were wide, and he had no idea what expression Will could gather from them. His own emotions felt racing and he knew his tendency for emotions to either blow up or go muted, but this felt of the former in every direction.
Anger, distrust, fear, apprehension, hesitation, want…
He sucked in a breath. He ran his palms along his face and neck, letting his head hang back. One hand continued while the other fiddled with his satchel strap.
A hum built in his throat, and he felt overwhelmed. He had no idea why this was such a big thing in his brain. But it felt like the shattering between his soul and his skin.
He inhaled again, deeper, let the pine fill his lungs until it built up so thick his walls were reinforced again, and again.
But when they were too thick it left no room for air. The oxygen had no where to go. He couldn’t breathe.
He exhaled, let the pine go, took down some layers of green…
Venice tilted her head back, an obvious offering to him. He took her up, letting the feel of soft hair and ear shape and nostril flares soothe him.
His eyes were still shut, but since when he knew not. Once the jitteriness of his sudden attack of panic eased, over a minute later, his eyelids opened and he saw Will patiently waiting. Compose yourself.
“It doesn’t have to be today,” he reassured. “If you’re not ready, we can…” His voice trailed off.
“Where’s your gun.”
Will was caught off guard by the bluntness, and had to give a huff of a laugh in response. He patted his sides, saying; “At home. I haven’t brought it for weeks.”
Nico nodded. “What weapons do you have.”
Will made obvious clearance of his hands and reached to his back pocket, slipping a pocket knife from it.
“Take it.” He gestured, tossing it when Nico opened his hands. What.
“I didn’t ask you to give it to me.” He stated obviously, deadpan.
Will smiled a bit. “I know.” He leaned back, letting Chip’s reins fall on her neck instead of holding them since they were at a stand still. “What else can I do?”
“If you want to see Sicily—“
A tremble of the bushes nearby cut Nico off. His head swung to look over, and there was the silver wolf lurking with eyes piercing the blond’s mind.
Will shifted uncomfortably. Nico added, “Dismount.”
Will truly hesitated on this one. Maybe it was because the wolf was already there, staring at him as if her hunger could win at any moment. At least, that’s what Nico thought Will’s mind went. Nico only saw protection.
Nico wanted to repeat the command, scold him, tell him that the price he paid in meeting him again and again was fear, kick his horse so she ran off without him…
Nico waited.
He was not violent. He was rational. He did not let himself act on rash behavior.
He waited.
And eventually, Will did.
He slid from his horse’s back, keeping her reins in hand so she would not run, but made no effort to attack or leave.
Nico was surprised by this. Frankly, he thought that Will wouldn’t do it. He’d abandon them.
“What are we going to do about Chip.” Nico asked, seeing the mare already wary of the trembling foliage off path.
Will glanced at her, already ready to sidestep. “Let me get a good tree.”
After finding one about four and a half meters away, sturdy and not breakable, as well as fastening a cloth over her eyes, he returned.
His unease grew larger still, face to face nearly with the beast he was taught to fear. Nico jumped off too, no regard to worry for Venice doing anything rash.
He approached Sicily. “Shh, Sicilia. He is a nice man, I think. Be kind.”
He waved her forward, urging Will to relax his shoulders. He listened, letting Sicily come to him instead of him to her.
She approached until she was a few feet away, letting her own eyes assess his worth. Nico was holding his breath—not for violence, but acceptance. He, against his better will, wanted them to get along.
She was waiting for something. Will seemed to know.
Lowering himself to a crouch, making his body smaller, he extended an open hand to her head. Offering.
She didn’t take it for a moment, but gave it a searching breath. Her jaw opened, using her tongue to smell the air—slowly, her body paced his in a circle.
Nico was holding his breath the same way Will was, it felt.
The moment stretched in a way that didn’t feel natural, he didn’t think that twenty seconds could feel like hours. Simply waiting, seeing if the keen animal would find his soul as good enough.
She didn’t make any big accepting of him. She just… walked away.
To Nico’s side she sat, letting her presence sit heavy by his side.
Nico exhaled, and just a hair after did Will too—as if Nico’s opinion was important too.
“That solved that.” Nico let his shoulders droop, and Will stood. “Well,” Nico began.
He extended his hand. “Nico di Angelo.” He grinned, a twinge of mischief covered his features. “Pleasure to meet you.”