𝖭𝖮𝖱𝖳𝖧𝖶𝖨𝖭𝖣.

Screeching fired like a buckshot into the silence of the woods. A head cracked up from the darkness, the body sprawled in filth, and the long, loc’d, heavy hair covering the face. The tips of her long tangled locs jailed millions of grains of sand, dead leaves, and soil- creating a habitat within the tightened strands. Hands caked in earth swept over the face revealing large hazel eyes that seemed to illuminate themselves. They started darting around feverishly, trailing filaments of light as an after-image like a shooting star. Fireflies had awoken at this time. The insects danced around the stranded creature as she observed them.

“Wo-“

Her hand immediately grasped her dried throat. She blinked twice before using her tongue to scavenge for saliva in her mouth.

“Mah flask!” She thought, hurriedly patting the ground around her and scraping the earth out of place. Nature had grown louder now with crickets singing their nightly tune and miscellaneous birds rustling in the trees. A pang of desperation ripped through her as too much time went by and she hadn’t found her only source of hydration. That feeling was quickly replaced by fear as another screech filled the volume of her eardrums, causing her to curl up in a fetal position. She peeked out from underneath her stalks of hair scanning the area around her. An owl sat perched high above her, staring in her general direction. Unfurling herself, she gazed upon it and its beauty, cocking her head to the left as the bird followed suit. Their eyes mimicked each other’s movements as their unnatural glow’s cut through shadow like chainsaws. The snap of a twig drew her attention away from the owl for a second only to find it gone as she turned back where she had last overseen it, a singular feather left behind on the branch it had once been sitting on. She sniffed with disappointment, standing up and shaking her hair violently. The small-sized hole she had dug earlier was refilled by her feet slowly collecting dirt under her soles as she pushed the soil back in its place. A yawn escaped her withered throat which was painful enough to bring crocodile tears to her bloodshot eyes. Fireflies continued to gather near her as well as ants scuttling over her toes- spiders spinning webs overhead. She let her neck stretch, the rear of her skull touching her upper back as she stared aimlessly into the moonless night sky. Breathing felt like rubbing sandpaper into an open wound so she cradled her lungs and airways, closing her eyes and slowly exhaling to see if it hurt less. That’s when a faint crack of color decorated her face. A yellow firework had gone off not too far away from her, sprinkling in a blank canvas. Many more followed after that, but she hadn’t noticed what they looked like. She was already running toward them.

“Highwater” the town was called. Small and gently populated, but perfect for her. She hadn’t realized nor acknowledged how insane she looked sprinting barefoot across a dirt road with battered clothing and matted hair into the first well she spotted upon entry. A drunk couple that witnessed her swan dive into the structure looked at each other and quietly agreed that that was enough excitement for the night. She stayed down there for what seemed like long, glorious hours before climbing out refreshed and soaking wet. Wringing her hair out, she admired the town before her. A wooden house painted dark brown stood quietly at the end of the road with fairy lights and candles strung about in select places. The roof was peeling as a destroyed chimney top laid unbothered on its right side. Surrounding the house was a collection of bushes and tulips that connected it to the other houses as the vegetation extended all across the neighborhood. There were similar houses with small but distinctly different features dotted all across the land accompanied by a church painted in grey and stores with their owners packing up for the night. Her eyes traveled to the building before her. A small saloon that was filled to the brim with men and women and its name faded off the sign. She smiled at the sight and began to skip up to the worn, waterlogged steps, grazing the damaged sign under her fingertips as she went.

“Welllll, I seen the man, that merciful man, the man who hides in cloth!

He’s said to love the poor and bust who the rich have surely wrought!

When you see em’ there, big and square, you ask if you can be taught!

Cos’ when you learn from the Ether Bandit, you’ll never be caught!”

Mugs of ale smashed into each other as the song ended. Villagers of all backgrounds spun in continuous circles in the middle of the floor before collapsing on each other and laughing hysterically. It was a rainbow of skin color that brought an even bigger smile to her lips. She took a stranded chair and carried it over to a table with one person sitting on the other side. Scooting happily into place, she extended an arm to the stranger whose face was obscured by their large cowboy hat.

“Howdy!” She beamed. The stranger glanced up at her with no readable expression. It took a moment before their hands met. “Yea.” She adjusted her hat stiffly and went back to her guarded position. She watched as the odd girl before her shifted and jittered in her seat like a child. Raising an eyebrow, she wondered why she would be in a place like this; and why she was alone. Noticing her clothes, a question she didn’t know she wanted to ask blurted out. “Where you coming from?”

“Me? Oh… ah. I’s dunno.”

“You’s dunno?” Removing her hat, she allowed herself to sustain eye contact with the creature before her.

“Okay… then why is you all soaked.”

“Oh! I’s jumped in the well.”

“The well?”

“Yah, it was real refreshing.”

The stranger furrowed her brow and scrunched her nose at this.

“Why ain’t you’s just… take a bath?” Her eyes darted to her bare feet and then to her clothes again. “You’s ain’t got no pot to piss in?”

“Naw, I’s just came into town. I’s lost my mount as well as the rest of my effects aways back-“

“Heanh. Dry yerself.”

She slid the tin of napkins to the other side of the table. The drenched philly revealed a toothy grin, her smile almost too wide for her face. “Thank ya kindly.” She spoke warmly which gave the stranger whiplash. She’d never encountered someone who got so gitty over the littlest actions and gestures.

Patting herself down, she realized the stranger was staring at her. She smiled again as a response that caused her to turn away. The grin faded a bit as she was afraid she made her new acquaintance uncomfortable. The tin was empty and the napkins soiled in water which she bundled all up into a ball and placed a few inches away from her on the bar table. The saloon grew quiet as the drunken adrenaline in the customers started to wane. Many preparing to leave, stumbling over nothing and waving the owner and staff goodbye. Positioning her locs behind her shoulders, she sniffed absentmindedly, folding and unfolding her damp and wrinkled fingers under the table as she stole glances to the stranger who had grown dead quiet. A question readied itself upon her lips but was quickly forgotten as the saloon doors slammed open to attention.

A muscularly built young man wearing work pants and a short-sleeved button-down whose hat also obscured his eyes stood statuesquely between the two doors spread ajar. He chewed slowly on what looked like tobacco with one corner of his mouth pointing upward. His neck was tattooed with intertwining vines that grew to his left shoulder and down his arm which seemed to come alive as he accidentally flexed when scratching the crown of his head. The sight of him seemed to make her newfound friend extremely nervous.

“Fuck.” She spat, grabbing for her hat and shoving it on her face. The man cracked his neck as he stepped across the length of the saloon, tipping his hat to the barkeep.

“Howdy, ma’am.”

She leaned over the counter suggestively, squeezing her breasts and biting her lower lip. “The usual, I reckon?”

“Ya know me too well.”

The barkeep laughed softly and sauntered away to the nearest keg, noticeably watching him to see if he was watching her. He wasn’t.

“Who’s dat?”

The odd girl attempted a whisper but the stranger swatted at her angrily, gripping the hat firmly over her eyes.

“Hush up! He might could’ve heard you’s!”

“Oh, I’s sorry-“

She picked up her chair and shifted sideways awkwardly until she was next to her. The stranger watched in annoyance as the girl slid her head across the table to see under the hat. She had that same smile from before on her face when she asked again but quieter, “Who’s dat?”

“…Dats the county Sheriff’s boy.”

“County Sheriff?”

“Yean. Taylor Dixon his name is. He think the sun comes up just to hear em’ crow.”

“There’s law ‘round heanh?”

“Whut kinda question is dat? There’s law ‘round errywhere.”

“Not errywhere.”

They stared at each other for a few moments.

“Why is you’s hidin’ from em’?”

She hesitated.

“I’s outlawed.”

“Really? Whut’d you’s do?”

She seemed to ask this almost ecstatically.

“Ah… I juss’…”

She was curious to see the girls’ reaction if she said something drastic.

“I’s killed a man.” She fibbed well. “I’s cracked him across his face and shot him.”

The girl blinked and nodded to the strangers’ confusion. “I’s see. Was prolly fo’ a good reason.”

“How you’s know dat?” She asked, growing louder, border-lining on a defensive tone. “You’s ain’t know me. You’s ain’t fixin to know me. I might could be a killa fo’ all you’s know.”

“You’s kind, doe.” She grinned and patted the table affectionately. “You’s slid me’s them napkins n’ spoke wit me when you just could’a paid me no mind. I’s nevah seen no killa do sum’ like dat.”

The stranger’s nostrils flared in embarrassment.

“Hush up! I’s ain’t no kinds of “kind.” You’s juss look’d like you’d took a stroll through a swamp is all! Sho’ nuff, if I’s were madder then a wet hen, I’d-“

“You hear any tell of this one heanh?”

The two simultaneously directed their attention to Taylor who was questioning the barkeep about someone on a wanted poster. He sipped his beer slowly and watched her as she studied the paper.

“Naw. Ain’t heard no tell of him since that bank he hit ‘bout yesteryear.”

He huffed in disappointment as he turned the paper toward him. He grimaced at it, folding it back up again and stuffing it into his back pocket.

“Oh hell.” The stranger with the hat whispered furiously.

“Whut’s wrong?” The girl looked between her and him. “Was the person on dat paper sumone you's knew?”

She turned to the girl in genuine surprise.

“You’s ain’t know who that was?”

“Naw.”

“The Ether Bandit?”

“Naw.”

“The Vault Of Heaven??”

“Naw.”

She leaned closer to her as if to engrave the words into her ears.

“The Divine Maurader? The father of all outlaws? The best and the greatest bounty in the history of the worl’??”

A blank but cheerful expression painted the girls’ face as she shook her head for the fourth time.

“Seriously, chick, where is you’s from?”

All fear of Taylor’s presence left her body as she began to tell the story of her hero. A man who was said to go on a spree of carriage robberies spanning all across the country. These vehicles were hauling stolen money from settlers and small towns to big city banks who were notorious for abusing people who their owners viewed as below them and their peers. He would apprehend them, kill no one, take the money, and find the original owners. Then finally, his last and biggest heist inspired songs and folktales across the world. A bank robbery that resulted in the return of millions of dollars to a group of villagers who were on the verge of death. This is when all of the nicknames began to kick-off, all of them relating to the heavens as many believed this faceless man was a vessel of God. She knew all of these heists in detail, and the girl smiled seeing her open up like this.

“Now, you’s know ‘bout my idol. I’s look up to em’.”

The girl nodded and folded her arms together on the table, laying her head on them.

“Yean- it remind me of mah past yea(r)h. But I’s ain’t rob nobody, I just gave back what was tooken from em.”

The stranger laughed at this, allowing herself to get comfortable. “Ya don’t say?”

“Yean. It’s a lot like you’s said. Or rather exactly like that.” She smiled at her.

“Exactly?” The stranger fidgeted with her hat that was off her head. She wasn’t sure where she was getting at. “How do you mean?”

“I’s did those things. In the past, a’ least. I’s always wore’n so much outside cos I’s always felt like I’s was in an icebox. I’s did those things you’s was describing but I’s ain’t done nothing since after I’s was injured-“

“Wait.”

An emotion she couldn’t name was growing inside her. The long stalky hair was strikingly similar to his, she realized. His shape was told to be hidden in multiple layers, as well as the lower part of his face- and his eyes-

“Is you’s tryna tell me you’s the Ether Bandit?”

“Well, I’s don’t know ‘bout all dat. I’s nevah been called dat in my life-“

“Whut’d you do yer last robbery?”

The desperation in her voice was hushed but prominent.

“Ah- well, it was basically how you’s described-“

“Whut’d the people look’d like when you’s gave em’ back they coin?”

The girl searched her brain for a painful instant.

“Was a large group.” Her eyes rolled upward as if to scour the inside of her skull.

“A family were the leadahs of their travel. I’s arrived n’ returned their money but was pulled to the side by the oldah sista.” Palming her forehead, she described her. “Braid’d hair- long and flowy. She’n much taller then me- with big doughy eyes n’ scents of cedar wood.” She snapped her fingers and glowed at the stranger who stared at her in awe. “She’n gave me her Morgan horse! Yea, I’s remember. N’ she told me dat-“

“We’s gon’ remember dis till the day we’s die.”

“Yes’um!” She clapped carefully as her sentence was finished for her.

“You-“ A thought of dread rushed over the stranger like a tidal wave. She set her terrified eyes on the sheriff's boy who was still there, sipping the last of his beer from his mug. Turning back to the girl, she needed one last thing to confirm her racing thoughts.

“You haves a name..?” Finishing the sentence she started.

“Yean. Spencer.” She extended her hand out to her. “Spencer Northwind.”

It was true. Her hero was sitting right before her. All in one moment, memories of her sister raving about meeting the Ether Bandit, hugging him, speaking to him, learning his real name which was a cherished secret between the two of them that no one else knew. Come to find out, he was female and had the oddest personality she had ever experienced. Nevertheless, she was on the verge of tears as she shook her hand once again, but with emotion behind it. She finally met her hero she had wanted to be in the shoes of for so long. “Maybe she could help me,” she thought, holding back tears by scrunching up her face. “Together, we can find my kin. Bring em’ home-“

The sound of stomping feet snapped her out of her trance as the sheriff's son seemed to be calling for someone. “Mercy!” He shouted, whistling as he banged his foot against the floor rhythmically. Just then, an owl swooped in through an open window at the front of the saloon, circling him twice and landing on his forearm.

“Howdy there, precious girl!” The barkeep wagged her finger at Mercy who snapped at it. She pulled away appalled and hissed at her, turning away with her nose in the air. The man nuzzled the bird, rubbing his nose against her beak.

“Aye…” Spencer noticed the feathers on Mercy. She spoke mostly to herself in excitement.

“I’s know that bird! She was in them woods with me-“

“We’s needa lit out.”

The stranger took her hat and placed it firmly on her head, gathering her belongings.

“Aw- but that owl, I’s seen it befo’-“

“That’s mighty fine n’ everything, but I’s don’t reckon you’s understand the capacity of the cattywampus your’n.”

Spencer stared at her friend with her mouth open slightly.

“…Can I’s say sumin’?”

“Whut.”

“I’s like the way you’s speak.”

“…Bless yer heart.”

“Capacity? I’s like the way that sounds.”

She pulled Spencer’s chair out for her slowly with her still in it while Mercy and the man were distracted. Leaning down next to her, she whispered shouted in a stern but caring voice.

“You’s don’t seem to fully understand the sitchaation we’ern at this time, so’s i’mma spell it out for you’s. My names Daphne Dannamon and I am’n a low bounty outlaw.” She pointed at Spencer who was listening intently. “Your’n names Spencer Northwind, aka The Vault Of Heaven aka the Ether Bandit aka the most expensive bounty n’ the face of worl’. Thatta man over there’s not only the kin of the mos’ corrupt sheriff in history but also a bounty hunta whom does’n keep his bounties breathin’. Evah. N’ his barn owl Mercy is trained to remembah faces.” She sat up and stared directly at the man who had reciprocated his eye contact.

“N’ they both remembah mines.”

“Howd-“ Daphne pelted the wad of napkins next to Spencer into Taylor’s face before he could finish. A familiar screeching sound filled the small atmosphere of the saloon as Mercy automatically charged toward the two of them. Daphne’s feet started moving a long time ago. She turned back expecting to see Spencer right behind her but she was still at the table with Mercy sitting before her. Stunned, she stopped right before the swinging doors afraid of what Mercy might do to her. Spencer took her hand and patted the top of Mercy’s head softly. Daphne thought her eyes deceived her as she watched the hell bird snuggle into the gesture. It didn’t take long until the two of them were sprinting on the dirt road far away from the saloon with Taylor scrambling for his horse. In the middle of it all, happily out of breath, Spencer asked,

“So, what’d you really do ta’ be a bounty?”

Daphne smiled wide for the first time tonight, pulling on the reins of her horse. The two stood quietly together behind a house as Taylor rode along past them with Mercy scanning overhead. Brushing her hands across the mane of her horse, her eyes caught the same glow as Spencer’s as she spoke subtly.

“I robbed a bank.”