two thousand miles and one left turn

Jimson Morris · 09-11-2012, 02:19 PM

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Word count: 503

Orin flurried around him like a white and pink whirlwind, speaking but seemingly not expecting answers. Jimson straightened up and looked after her as she hopped the counter, and could not help but jump a little when she squeaked and tossed a dead mouse out of the pantry, laughing at her own silliness. It was extremely hard not to like Orin; she was so friendly and lighthearted, and he appreciated her good natured teasing.

He couldn't deny that he was thankful when she stepped out of the pantry, arms full of food and trailing chaos behind her. The dog winced as a loud crash echoed from the store room -- he was pretty sure he did not want to see what the petite female had left in her wake. But at least he didn't have to spend all morning out in the woods futilely shooting his damn bow at prey that moved too quickly for him. Not that he would be able to hit it any better if it stood still. His patience tended to wane on an empty belly, and he would get frustrated with his poor aim, which would cause it to become even poorer. At least this way he could go hunting without his stomach complaining -- wouldn't hurt to restock the store room after eating out of it, especially with winter coming on.

Jimson blinked and released the bolt of fabric in his hands as Orin playfully swatted at him and tugged on it. "Well, y'didn't say y'wanted it organized," he said, laughing, and followed her to the counter that she had pulled herself up onto. "Y'gotta point, though, if I had t'wait any longer fer breakfast I might jus' start chewin' on yer fabric there. Hey, now!" The last exclamation was playfully offended as she pushed the plate of bread toward him, her eyes full of laughter. The white male picked up a piece of jerky and began gnawing on it as she peppered him with questions. "I dunno," he said teasingly, "I do love me some good beef steak." He paused for a minute before chuckling and continuing, his slow country speech contrasting her quick manner of speaking. "Jus' got 'ere last night, actually. Came from down south a ways. Ain't visitin' no one in particular, yer King, I reckon you call 'im? He says 's okay fer me to stay a while, as I's jus' wanderin' wid no perticular place in mind. Ain't made up my mind yet jus' how long 'at'll be, but I reckon I'll stick around at least long 'nough t'rest up real good. Plus I told Mister Haskell I'd help 'im wid learnin' how t'fight wid a staff. Or against one, I'm not real sure." He took another bite of his jerky, and sniffed the cheese before judiciously placing it back down on the counter. "I love younguns," he added. "What about you? Y'got munchkins? An' d'you usually leave utter chaos ever'where you go?" He smiled, a teasing gleam in his eye.

Table credit Raze.

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