Opposites in the Wild

As the first shots are fired, I pull out my gun and look through the scope. I see two individuals poking around the corner shooting. I line up the shot on one of them and hesitate.. My thoughts drift towards the captive I ordered killed a few days ago. How are these individuals different? I glance at Kiíellièn and she gives me a reassuring smile, seemingly knowing what I'm thinking. Her glance reminds me of a story I read once. As I recap the section of the story that's pertinent to our story in that split second, my resolve comes back and I pull the trigger without looking back into the scope, knowing it's still trained on the individual in the green jacket. . I continue until the last of individuals trying to hurt us runs off. Jaxion is safe, Xhoya is safe, we're all safe because I pulled the trigger. The story is less about me and my struggles, but about my friends and their struggles. It gives me hope they will come together and the things I do will be worth it. Jaxion may be naive, Xhoya may be hard headed, they are both my friends and I'll do what I need to do to protect them. (Funny, I would have reversed those a few days ago..) And even though we don't all see eye to eye, even though we argue about what we think is right or not, even though I don't always want to do what needs to be done, I do what I need to do, for them, for my friends.
 
 
 
Opposites in the Wild : by Marshall T. Kincaid
 
Dust rolled across Red Hollow in slow, whispering waves as Sheriff Calder Boone dismounted outside the abandoned freight station. His boots hit the ground with the weight of his reputation—straight-edged, steady, a man who believed the law was a shape that never bent.
 
Leaning against a broken wagon wheel was Jace Harrow, a wiry drifter with sharp blue eyes and a scar along his jaw. He had no love for lawmen, and even less for Calder’s employer—Mayor Silas Grant, the man who’d once stolen Jace’s land through forged deeds and threats. Jace had carried that betrayal like a stone in his chest for years.
 
“You sure you want to be here, Sheriff?” Jace muttered. “Men tracking us ain’t the friendly type.”
 
Calder frowned. “I didn’t ask for backup.”
 
“Wasn’t offering,” Jace shot back. “Just happened to be passing through trouble.”
 
Trouble answered for itself when the first gunshot shattered the quiet. A gang of masked bushwhackers fired from the ridge, pinning them behind the station. Calder reloaded with crisp discipline; Jace darted low, fast, unpredictable.
 
“This feels planned,” Jace growled as a bullet chipped wood near his ear.
 
Calder nodded grimly. “But who’d—”
 
Jace cut him off. “Your mayor. Grant’s hands are dirtier than a graveyard shovel. Men he’s used before fight just like these fellas.”
 
Calder hesitated. The idea twisted in his gut—but as he watched the attackers’ formation, their precision, something clicked. This wasn’t random.
 
“You’re certain?” he asked.
 
“Lost everything because of that man,” Jace said, voice low. “I know his stink.”
 
Side by side, they countered—Calder’s steady shots pairing with Jace’s reckless flanking. When the last attacker fled, both men stood bloodied, breathing hard, alive because they worked together.
 
Later, searching a fallen outlaw, Calder found a badge-shaped emblem—Grant’s private mark.
 
Jace crossed his arms. “Told you.”
 
Calder exhaled, the betrayal settling heavy. “Looks like we’ve got a mayor to bring down.”
 
Jace smirked. “Now that’s a job I’ll gladly help with.”
 
They headed toward Red Hollow—two unlikely allies, no longer divided by past wounds, ready to face a greater enemy together. Heroes by necessity, partners by choice.