Hunting was good, the pile of hides overflowing in the wagon. A warm smile upon her lips as she looked to her hunting partner. Off she would go, taking the wagon east to the train station to be taken to the big cities. She looked to the other wagon, the dried and salted meat stacked and lashed tightly. Slowly she climbed up into the seat, her hands gripped the reigns, lacing them between her fingers for gentle adjustments. One last look around as she propped her rifle against her leg, her pistol in her lap. A snap rang out as she clicked her tongue to the horses....
.... The wagon groaned and creaked, the hooves of the horses dug deep into the ground as they strained against the rigging. Wagon wheels bit into the dirt, slowly lurching forward, turning like the seasons. A long ride ahead awaited her. She settled into the seat, leaning back against the soft bear fur. At least two days to Amiville, provided the wagon held up under the weight. The sky above glided by delicately, the trees began to slip by with a gentle wave, yet not a single word....
...A warm tune came to her lips, breaking the groans, squeaks and creaks of the wagon. The sounds seemed to fall in time with the whistle that raced past her lips, creating the background music. Her lips curled up into a smile as she whistled on, the music echoing in the distance. The load of meats would surely sell well in Amiville and the other towns along the way..........
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