I'd still like to see Lily rope the cow if possible.
The only way of catching the cow I see being a good idea is Lilly, mostly because tackling a cow, well catching up to it, is pretty hard... and stupid. Shooting it from behind won't help, and right now I don't think the Charzard is in a mood to chase a runaway cow.
Hips bucking, the cow runs off to the south; you call to Lily, but she is already in motion: seconds later, Gryngolet is in front of the cow, rearing and kicking. It turns again, lowing in dismay, and hesitates for a moment, uncertain of where to run – and in that moment, you seize the opportunity, and the rope. A strong yank on the cord pulls its head back towards you, and a bellow of pain and fear from its mouth. Behind it, Lily mutters something to Gryngolet, and without hesitation he leans forward and bites down hard on the cow's tail.
Perhaps the cow is confused now and has lost track of where the Charizard is. Perhaps it is simply more afraid of the actual biting horse than the hidden, inert Charizard. Either way, the whites of its rolling eyes clearly visible, the cow moves – and follows you, straight around the edge of the hill.
The Charizard lies in a great heap of leather and plates; its head is turned away from you, but swings around abruptly at its approach, the fox talismans attached to its hide rattling with the ringing click of old bones. For a moment, its acid yellow eyes squint at you uncomprehendingly – and then they move abruptly over to the cow, and the poor beast freezes in its tracks, stuck like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a snake.
After that, shoot it or kill it cleanly. It's kinder than letting the 'zard savage it, even if we're going to feed it anyway.
Quietly, quickly, you and Lily move aside―
The Charizard strikes.
You had planned to put the cow down cleanly before the dragon took it. But you never had the chance; starving and desperate, it has closed its jaws around the cow's head before you could so much as raise your gun. The cow itself does not so much as cry out. As quickly as it struck, the Charizard pulls back, and its now headless victim collapses into the dust.
There is less blood than you expected. The Charizard has done this before.
You retreat a little way up the hill to let it eat. Lily goes a little further – Gryngolet is battle-hardened and can stand blood, but is nervous about watching a predator of this size eating. The Charizard itself is quick but methodical: it splits open the cow at the sternum and prises it in half with its foreclaws, eats the offal first and then works its way up the legs and down the body to the tail. Nothing is wasted; it even eats the bones, crunching them into flakes between its rear teeth. Anything that cannot be digested, you assume, is fuel for its flames.
“There's something you don't see every day,” says Lily, joining you. “How do you even catch one of those?”
You shrug. You have no idea, you tell her. It's stolen.
“And how, pray tell, do you steal a Charizard?”
Well, in your experience, you just let it out of its cage and hold on tight.
Lily shakes her head.
“Jesus Christ. Sounds like something out of a novel.” She watches as the Charizard wraps its long, dark tongue around a thigh and draws it between its jaws. “Jesus Christ,” she says again. “Don't you go letting that thing starve any more. You keep it strong, and nothing will be able to stop you.”
You agree. The Charizard – assuming it both recognises and doesn't eat you – puts most weapons in the East to shame. It would take another Pokémon or a small army, fox or human, to put it down.
Finishing, the dragon stands up suddenly – all the way up, on its hind legs. Its wings stretch out to their full extent with a crack and a gust of wind that sends sand flying and Gryngolet retreating as far as his tether will allow, and all at once, the guttering flame on its tail bursts back into life. It doesn't burn as bright as before – indeed, you imagine the Charizard probably needs more than a single cow to fully sate its hunger. But it's definitely got its spirits back.
It drops down to all fours with a surprising lack of noise. Evidently, some of its dexterity has returned, too. Wings folding into place on its back, it moves that enormous head around to you and tilts it to one side, investigating you with one eye. You have to fight the urge to move – this is a very large animal, after all, and you have every reason to expect it still to be hungry – but you don't budge, and after a moment the Charizard retreats, leaning back and crouching on its haunches.
It seems to be waiting for something.
It seems to be waiting for
you.
Lily turns to you, visibly shaken.
“Well,” she says, “are we going to get this thing saddled?”
It's easier than you thought it would be. When you approach, holding up the leather, the Charizard watches carefully, but makes no move to attack; when you take it around to its side, it opens out its left wing and leans its left shoulder towards the ground, as if anticipating what you want to do. It occurs to you then that it must be used to this. Someone caught it once, and someone put all those piercings in it. People – or foxes, at least – must have climbed over it before, and since you have fed it, it seems willing enough to let you do the same.
Perhaps, you think, it's actually
trained, and the only reason it reacted so savagely to the militia and army was because they were trying to kill it.
Whatever the reason, the Charizard allows you to secure the torthide on its back with loops of rope around its wings and belly; it even flexes its limbs to show you how much strain the ropes will bear as it moves in flight. Someone has definitely ridden it before – probably a fox, or perhaps one of the Peak trappers, if it was originally caught by humans.
“It's more docile than Gryngolet,” remarks Lily, surprised. “Whoever you stole it from, I'd like to know their secrets.”
She cuts a loose end of rope with a knife and straightens up.
“There. That ought to hold.”
The two of you step back, and the Charizard stands up again. Its eyes return to your face, although they never meet your gaze. You expected that; most animals take a look in the eyes to be a threat.
You suppose it's time to leave.
“Yes,” agrees Lily. “Where are you going?”
You shrug. East, you say, and point.
The Charizard's eyes follow your finger, and then move back to you. It makes a strange noise halfway between a sniff and a hiss, which you take to mean it has got the message.
Lily hesitates before asking her next question, but her curiosity gets the better of her; she has seen much of you, and the extraordinary things that go with you, and you know that even though she knows it's always best not to ask about the motives of fellow rogues of the wasteland she can't help but ask.
“Why? What's out there?”
You think about that for a moment.
Answers, perhaps, you tell her. Or more questions. You aren't really sure. But there's someone waiting for you there.
Lily nods slowly.
“I see,” she says, and for once you can't tell whether she does or not.
She walks you to the Charizard, which obediently lowers its knee for you to climb up on, and helps you secure the straps around your waist and shoulders that will stop you from having to hold on so continuously. This time, you remember to take your hat off, and fasten it to your pack. Through the torthide, you feel a gentle warmth – but not the searing heat from before.
“Lot of foxes out that way,” shouts Lily, as she moves off to give the Charizard some room. “Be wary around them. Bold, but not too bold, yes?”
You freeze.
What did she just say?
You want to shout back – to ask her what she said and where she heard it – but it is too late; the Charizard is rearing, and those huge wings are beating, and with one gigantic kick it is rocketing away from the earth, Lily dwindling to insectoid scale as she backs away, face upturned …
The Charizard roars, a sound that shakes the heavens, and a bloody tongue of flame licks the air. Beneath you, the land drop away; before you, the blank desert opens up beyond the edge of the foothills.
And at the uttermost edge of your vision, where the sky shimmers with heat, a tall black tower comes into view, and though you cannot see them you know that someone there is watching you.
Be bold, they are saying.
Be bold.
END OF PART ONE
Note: Well done, everyone, you made it! Part Two will be coming in a couple of days. For now, please feel free to decide on a name for your new friend. As an animal, it has no sense of gender, so feel free to give it absolutely any name that makes sense for a mid-to-late-eighteenth-century steampunk-cowboy world with Arabic and Aztec influences.
teamVASIMR: Nope. They aren't. But they thought it would be easier to execute a cow if they hadn't made a pet of it. Also, yes; I edited that bit about ammo in after you pointed out that I'd forgotten it. Silly me.
