ghost's come back to haunt you

Betrayed by his own hand-picked crew. The irony, right?

Since the moment he'd woken, lain before a thick trunk, the memories haunted him, never to vanquish from his mind. 

The deadwood reapers had been his own creation. Everyone that had followed him had been family or friend, all of them bound by a sacred blood oath. But they had all betrayed that oath, and he paid the price for it.

Groggy and stiff, the rolled his body away from the gargantuan tree trunk and unsteadily rose to his feet. Everything hurt like a bitch. But who would expect awakening after a near century long slumber not to be?

The ghostly-furred man felt out of place. His skin prickled at every turn, lip ready to lift and flash teeth at anything or anyone that dared cross his path. While he wasn't the biggest of assholes, he wasn't exactly the most welcoming presence either. Deep scars still ran along his skin, some hidden by his fur, while others not. One more prominent ran along his left eye, that somehow still had nearly perfect sight. It frightened many. But it was only the beginning of a tale that told of many victories and few losses. His biggest loss being his untimely execution...

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@Callahan :3

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Callahan awoke in his grove, but something felt off. He had found Maisy and Dara some time ago, met some feller, and had felt his life was fallin' into a good place. Cal had a family again, even if it were only two members of the gang, but he had them with him. He had a purpose to live and now. Now, it was gone. Cal was alone again; this time, he wasn't sure it'd be fixed.

Callahan ambled through the golden fields without purpose, unsure what to do with himself. He was a man driven by purpose, but what was he supposed to do without it? What could he do alone? How would he continue to survive without his family to protect.

While the man went about the meadow, focusing on his thoughts and looming fears, he hadn't noticed the pale figure traipsing in the distance.

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somewhat short but will be longer <3

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This place was vast, strange. Yet not too different from his home in the deadwoods. 

Or, his previous home, anyways.

Shifting his gaze to and fro, he eventually spotted a brown, bear-like figure ahead. Nostrils flaring, he picked up his pace, intent on figuring out just who it was, and why they were here. Or, more like, how they'd gotten here. He wasn't even sure how the hell he'd gotten here himself. 

“You there! Git on over here!” He demanded with a booming voice, the command flowing naturally. He had questions, and like it or not, this wolf would answer them.

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Cal turned with a raised brow and a scowl, fur rising along his nape. Whoever this was thought himself a king, shouting at him like that. They were strangers, and yet he spoke as if he had power.

Fellers like this always managed to rub Cal the wrong way, shouting like they ruled the world. They were the sign of the new world, everyone thinkin' they were in charge. And Cal would have none of it.

“Can I help ya or somethin'?” Callahan looked the strange feller up and down with a look of annoyance. Who was he to call him over like some stray dog? The disrespect burned Cal in a way that it usually didn't. Perhaps it was that now he didn't have someone to obey but himself.

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As it appeared, the ghost had gotten under someone's skin. Normally, he would have sneered at the fact. But in this instance, he wasn't interested in making an enemy. Only a friend.

“Sorry if I’m comin’ off a bit rough, but I’m real lost here. I ain’t got the foggiest idea where I am or how I got here—just what went down before..” He tried his best to sound sincere, not being used to apologies and all. Maybe this stranger would understand his frustration.

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Callahan wasn't sure what to make of the man. First, he spoke to Cal as if he were an underling that had to accept his commands. Then he speaks to him as if they were friendly. It was confusing, but Callahan knew better than to let his guard down. It was how he ended up where he did last time, and he wasn't going to make that mistake again.

“The place does that to ya. Memories come and go. Hell, sometimes they don't come back at all.” Cal knew that all too well. Some memories of the past had returned to him as time passed, even those he didn't want to remember. The image of them flashed before fading into nothing. “You remember anythin' at all? Might help figurin' out where you're s'posed to be.”

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“It ain't about forgettin’. I remember clear as day what went down.” He remembered every detail down to grating bone. “My old crew... they turned on me, left me for dead. Killed me, plain as that. But damned if I know how I ended up here or what the hell I’m supposed to do next. Startin’ over? That don’t sit right. That gang’s as good as dead to me after what they pulled.”

But enough of his own problems. This man here sure probably didn't want to waste his time standing around to here him rant and rave. “What about you, then? Got yourself a posse 'round these parts?”

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The man spoke freely, tellin' him his past without hesitation. Cal did feel bad, knowin' they weren't too different from each other. He remembered being left for dead on that mountain, everyone else runnin' to save themselves. But he could never feel that strong of hate for them. Even if they'd wronged him, he'd never think that way.

“Reckon it's a shame to hear that. Loyalty's what counts, partner.” Cal murmured, mind immediately going to what kept his ragtag group together. Survival and loyalty were the essential parts of the gang. No one left behind, and no one ever ratted. “Nope. Been ridin' solo fer the last few months.” Cal replied, ear flicking as he kept some distance between them. He didn't trust this man no more than he'd trust a thief.

But the idea of having a gang again was too great to ignore. Cal reckoned he could do it without them, he had been trusted in makin' decisions for a while back then. And, well, he weren't as stupid as they thought.

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Loyalty was indeed important, he could agree. “Reckon so, it is,” He nodded. “Wish I could say I'd held my men to that.” He'd lost a good many.

It was also a shame that the man had kept to himself. “Pity, that. Reckon' I won't be able to ride solo my own for too long.” His gang had been his life. It wasn't in his nature to be on his own. Wasn't how he'd ever lived.

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Callahan watched him with a guarded expression, not sure what to make of the man. First, he was demanding. Now, he seemed, almost, repentant. He reminded him of Levi, had the same air to them that screamed leader, but Cal knew better now. He knew better than to trust someone for how they seemed.

“Not 'round these parts. Best to try and find people to survive.” Though he wished to leave the man to his own devices, and his heartless mind said to do it, Cal knew it weren't kind. “Would you, wanna ride with me? I'm headin' west soon, lookin' for a place to call my own.” He offered, though it sounded foreign to the cowboy. He weren't usually this welcomin' to strangers, especially fellers like this, but he wanted to survive. And he wouldn't forgive himself if this one ended up dead. “And the name's Callahan.”

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What had begun as a simple, albeit awkward first meeting with a likeminded man, had ended in an invitation. A partnership, if you'd call it that.

Surprised, even as he was, he knew the offer may come only once in a lifetime. How could he refuse? “I reckon I could tag along. Not many other folks might offer the shot.” He was a stubborn man, and he knew it. Better to take what graces he could.

“Your headin' west, you said? What d'ya reckon you'll stumble on out yonder?” This place seemed nice. But this man, Callahan, seemed to think there was something better.

Oh, and before he forgot. “Name’s Rhett by birth, but the boys always called me Ghost—reckon it’s the look that earned it.” And he would stick by it.

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Callahan weren't sure why he extended the offer to the man, but judging from the look of surprise, he knew he made the right call. Why struggle when joinin' up can make life easier for everyone. This choice would lead to him creating a gang, a family. And that was Cal could ever ask for.

Callahan shook his head. “No, I don't really think they will. But I think we could survive out here if we work together.” He never knew if folk were friendly 'round these parts, but he weren't one to tempt fate.

The man once again nodded. Just the idea of being out west brought a smile to his face. “Freedom.” Was all he said, though the gleam in his eye spoke the words he couldn't. Freedom from the chains that he hadn't realized bound him to this place. The West had always been a symbol of freedom, and though this were a new place, Callahan held on to that idea.

“Here's to our lastin', partnership, Rhett.” He grinned before motioning towards his area of the glade, a silent show of trust in the man.

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