for logan;

[acidified]

Sandrock.

It was supposed to be a quick stop. Refill his canteens, purchase some rations, get back on the train. The first two were easy enough tasks. He even managed to bump into an injured man and, deciding to play god, healed his injuries with the magic of nature that runs through his body.

But then the train broke down. Hearing the news had Rio hissing in displeasure, his tongue flicking out the moment he was alone. Staying at the inn wasn't an option. Wearing a cloak wasn't going to hide his long, serpentine tail from the people of the town forever. They were bound to pick up on his fangs and claws and scales; he couldn't cover himself from head to toe. And if his eyepatch came off...well, the last person who saw that eye called him a monster didn't return home that night.

The last thing he needed was for this place to think he was some kind of Geegler.

Thankfully, the desert vipers were able to lead him to a home. A cave in the desert, spacious enough to set up camp for a bit while he waited for the train to be repaired. It was a place he could take off his clothes and free his body and all of its 'monstrous' traits. With a stolen table and candles, soon the little pit a bit more bearable, lit by magical light that cooled the cave instead of making it hotter than the outside.

What Rio hadn't counted on was the sandstorms. He'd heard about them the few times he ventured into town to buy water or other supplies. He heard about the way they enraged the monsters. One moment, he'd been returning to his makeshift home, and the next he was tearing at his clothes, crying out in pain. His one human eye turned bright red as he fell to the sand, tail lashing, grunting and hissing as he tried to gain control of himself. He wasn't a monster, but the temptation to give into bestial urges brought about by the sandstorm—

They became too hard to resist the moment he caught sight of a man looking for cover.

He stalked the man for a moment, long enough to get the drop on him, but then he lunged. Fangs bared as he hissed loudly, he knocked the stranger to the ground. Claws tore at the human's clothes and a hand attempted to shove the man's face into the sand. His eyepatch stayed on, leaving one manic eye to rove over the man's body. Food? Prey? Drink? His body tensed and strained as the man struggled beneath him, ready to fight back.

"Help," Rio pleaded as he attempted to lift the stranger's body to slam him back into the hard sand. "Please."

Comments

[yakboy]

Outlaw though he may be, Logan was still Sandrock’s monster hunter — even if they didn’t know it. Every sandstorm had him patrolling the desert, dispatching of any enraged monster he could find before it made its way to Sandrock. It chafed, of course, that Pen got all the credit, but Sandrock was safe, and that was what mattered.

That being said, it was thankless work. Particularly when he was getting buffeted by sandstorm winds after taking a stray bullet from a Dive Buzzard. Luckily, Logan knew of a cave nearby that would nicely serve as a place to hunker down and wait for winds to ease. Dismounting Rambo with a stagger and a grunt, he set about looking for the cave entrance. But between the raging winds and the throb of pain in his wounded side, he didn’t hear Rambo’s bleats of warning until it was too late.

Something had knocked him to the ground, punching the winds out of him before he even realized what was happening. Mentally, Logan berated himself. He knew better than to let down his guard in the Eufaula. The biggest mistake a monster hunter could make was complacency. The creature humanoid, but nothing Logan had ever encountered before. But he wasn’t worried about the classification of a new monster — he was going to have his hands full just surviving.

And then it spoke.

The monster was a man, or at least humanoid. Whatever blood ran through this man’s veins, it seemed he felt the effects of the Eufaula’s sandstorms just as the monsters did. But the man was lucid enough to ask for help, even as he was trying to subdue Logan.

Well. He could worry about that once he got his feet back under him.

With a grunt, Logan twisted until he was facing his attacker, and his hunter’s mind noted the bright intelligence in his gaze — though it seemed half-crazed at the moment. Ignoring the pain, he grappled the other man and attempted to roll to the side in order to get the upper hand, reversing their positions.

“You got a real funny way of askin’ for help, stranger,” Logan panted, his smoky voice slightly muffled under the black bandana tied around his face. His hand blindly grasped at his belt, searching for the hilt of his dagger.