[ If Sam had one thing going for him, it was that he was used to waking up in strange places, different decades, even different centuries. His immediate instinct was to get a good feeling for his new surroundings, such as they were. You can imagine how thrilled he was to be surrounded by the smell of horses and leather, wobbling uncertainly to his feet and climbing over the sleeping strangers in the wagon around him.
All was going well. Just fine, in fact, until something went wrong with the horses pulling the wagon. It lurched to one side, just as he was ducking down to climb out the back of the canvas wagon, and next thing Sam knew he was sprawled on the trail in front of the approaching wagon train, his knee buried in something warm and wet and his hands bruised from the impact.
Classy, Sam. Right into the horse shit.
Unfortunately, the next wagon didn't exactly stop, and Sam had seconds to roll out of the way, hooves flashing at his temple, his life flashing in front of his eyes. Somewhere out there, something - probably an angel, knowing his luck - was having a nice long chuckle at his bad luck.
And then something wet licked his ear, his nose, his face, and Sam shoved his hands up, surprised to find them buried in long, familiar, mottled blue fur. ]
Riot? What are you doing here, boy?
[ Help a guy up? ]
2. Horse Play
[ Horses were all well and good from a distance. Close up, on the other hand, they were something of a mystery, an object of contention. Sam had looked at the guy in period dress like he was crazy when he'd told him that his horse needed to be watered, but the stranger had thrust the reins into his hand and wandered off, shaking his head at him, and Sam had been left trying to work out what to do next.
The wagon train was moving on - as fast as a wagon train could ever move - and Sam stood with the reins in one hand, staring at the horse - which stared right back at him - gesturing toward the water, which the horse was not drinking. Finally, it flicked its ears at him and lowered its head to the surface of the water, snorted at it, and then went right back to pretending it didn't exist.
Riot, as though to attempt to prove that the water was just fine, was chest deep in it, drinking his fill. He looked up at Sam as he bickered with the horse. ]
Oh, come on. Is it because I thought you were a boy horse? I'm still sorry about that, really I am. But who knows how far it is until we reach water. It's like gas, you've got to fill up when you've got the chance.
3. Old Man River
[ When the wheel came off the wagon right in the middle of the river, it was all hands on deck. Sure, the water wasn't very deep, but the horses started to panic as soon as they realized that they were stuck, stranded in the middle of the current.
Sam handed the reins of his horse to a child standing next to one of the wagons waiting on the bank, then, grimacing as water filled his boots, he strode out into the river. The wet boots were going to suck later, but if anyone could help get the wagon moving on to the next bank, it was probably him. There was already someone else lifting the corner, and Sam smiled softly as he stepped up beside them. ]
Hey. Need a hand?
4. It was a dark and stormy night
[ Sam wasn't thrilled that they'd almost made it to town. He remembered what that meant: straw beds, streets full of horse crap, and booze that made drinking paint stripper look like fun. But the trail wasn't much better. Sam was still wet from wading into the river, which made him unwelcome in the wagon he'd crawled out of. His ass was sore from sitting in the saddle: who rode horses for fun? And he was sitting as close to the fire as he could get just to dry off.
Riot sat beside him, contently eating the odd scrap of salted meat that Sam passed from his nearly uneatable bacon roll. Fortunately there was coffee as well, brewing in a big pot over the fire, and Sam had inherited the use of the ladle, so he could fill tin cups and hand them to strangers tempted in by the smell.
He blinked upward as a shadow moved over him, and offered a cup automatically. ]
Sam Winchester | Supernatural
[ If Sam had one thing going for him, it was that he was used to waking up in strange places, different decades, even different centuries. His immediate instinct was to get a good feeling for his new surroundings, such as they were. You can imagine how thrilled he was to be surrounded by the smell of horses and leather, wobbling uncertainly to his feet and climbing over the sleeping strangers in the wagon around him.
All was going well. Just fine, in fact, until something went wrong with the horses pulling the wagon. It lurched to one side, just as he was ducking down to climb out the back of the canvas wagon, and next thing Sam knew he was sprawled on the trail in front of the approaching wagon train, his knee buried in something warm and wet and his hands bruised from the impact.
Classy, Sam. Right into the horse shit.
Unfortunately, the next wagon didn't exactly stop, and Sam had seconds to roll out of the way, hooves flashing at his temple, his life flashing in front of his eyes. Somewhere out there, something - probably an angel, knowing his luck - was having a nice long chuckle at his bad luck.
And then something wet licked his ear, his nose, his face, and Sam shoved his hands up, surprised to find them buried in long, familiar, mottled blue fur. ]
Riot? What are you doing here, boy?
[ Help a guy up? ]
2. Horse Play
[ Horses were all well and good from a distance. Close up, on the other hand, they were something of a mystery, an object of contention. Sam had looked at the guy in period dress like he was crazy when he'd told him that his horse needed to be watered, but the stranger had thrust the reins into his hand and wandered off, shaking his head at him, and Sam had been left trying to work out what to do next.
The wagon train was moving on - as fast as a wagon train could ever move - and Sam stood with the reins in one hand, staring at the horse - which stared right back at him - gesturing toward the water, which the horse was not drinking. Finally, it flicked its ears at him and lowered its head to the surface of the water, snorted at it, and then went right back to pretending it didn't exist.
Riot, as though to attempt to prove that the water was just fine, was chest deep in it, drinking his fill. He looked up at Sam as he bickered with the horse. ]
Oh, come on. Is it because I thought you were a boy horse? I'm still sorry about that, really I am. But who knows how far it is until we reach water. It's like gas, you've got to fill up when you've got the chance.
3. Old Man River
[ When the wheel came off the wagon right in the middle of the river, it was all hands on deck. Sure, the water wasn't very deep, but the horses started to panic as soon as they realized that they were stuck, stranded in the middle of the current.
Sam handed the reins of his horse to a child standing next to one of the wagons waiting on the bank, then, grimacing as water filled his boots, he strode out into the river. The wet boots were going to suck later, but if anyone could help get the wagon moving on to the next bank, it was probably him. There was already someone else lifting the corner, and Sam smiled softly as he stepped up beside them. ]
Hey. Need a hand?
4. It was a dark and stormy night
[ Sam wasn't thrilled that they'd almost made it to town. He remembered what that meant: straw beds, streets full of horse crap, and booze that made drinking paint stripper look like fun. But the trail wasn't much better. Sam was still wet from wading into the river, which made him unwelcome in the wagon he'd crawled out of. His ass was sore from sitting in the saddle: who rode horses for fun? And he was sitting as close to the fire as he could get just to dry off.
Riot sat beside him, contently eating the odd scrap of salted meat that Sam passed from his nearly uneatable bacon roll. Fortunately there was coffee as well, brewing in a big pot over the fire, and Sam had inherited the use of the ladle, so he could fill tin cups and hand them to strangers tempted in by the smell.
He blinked upward as a shadow moved over him, and offered a cup automatically. ]
Coffee?
Wildcard
Or something else!