Kristopher
The gunshot cracked through the forest, bouncing off of rocky cliffs and boulder faces two times taller than a man. A crow cried in alarm and darted into the sky. A couple of squirrels chittered angrily as they sprinted up tree trunks to safety. The cottontail- the target - dashed into the underbrush, kicking up brown and red maple leaves in its desperate flight. 

Alma winced as she lowered the gun. Her shoulder was gonna be bruised tomorrow. She could feel it in the way the sinews ached as she lowered the rifle. Good. It meant she'd done something. She and Rhett had been at it for a couple of hours now and the weariness was starting to set in. Whatever progress she'd made earlier was slowly being seeped away by the cold and encroaching nightfall. The metal of the rifle was leeching the steadiness out of Alma's hands. She'd missed her target. Not by much, but it was enough to make her brows furrow with dissatisfaction. 

Partially because she wasn't a bad shot when she was using smaller weapons. Partially because of what a missed shot represented. Mainly because she wanted to make Rhett proud. 

An apology fell from her lips before she could think better of it. When she'd approached Rhett with the proposal of hunting practice, she'd mainly done it to get him and her away from the cage. Just for an evening. Rhett needed a moment to breathe. Alma didn't mind falling asleep at the workbench, but she did mind when he did. She was slowly starting to learn what the soft shifts in his breathing meant. What tension in his jaw hinted at. It wasn't a perfect science yet, but she was always watching. It was hard not to when they spent nearly every day working on the trap together with the other volunteers.

But the practice was meant to be an escape. Alma had never much cared for hunting, but she knew Rhett did. At least, that's what she'd gathered from what she'd heard about him and his cousin. Alma just wanted to learn how to use something bigger than her Papa's revolver. Something that felt good and strong and wicked in her hands that wouldn't knock her off her feet the way a shotgun might. So, she'd apologized for failing to take his advice to heart this time around. Her last shot had earned her a squirrel when his advice was still fresh in her mind. She should've listened better. Her shoulders sagged as she pulled the lever on the Winchester 94, ejecting the shell with the soft click of metal. 

"I should've had that one," She grumbled quietly. Her breath came out in small, white puffs. The knitted scarf her mama gave her now smelled like gunsmoke. She buried her nose into it anyway, muffling her voice. "Thanks for tryin', Rhett. Guess I just gotta get more practice in, huh?" She let out a weak laugh - not because it was funny, but because it was an easy deflection. 

"Dunno how much time we got left..." Her eyes darted up to the sky, but the sky was mostly blocked by branches laden with orange and red leaves. The last of the season. It was a cloudy day, so all Alma knew right then was slivers of grey sky and the cold of the shadows. At least, that's what she was trying to tell herself as she pushed down her longing to stay out longer with him. She didn't want to acknowledge that this had been *Fun*. That she'd needed the break too. That it'd been so freeing to just *Walk* Away from town and do somethin' verging on normal. 

How selfish of her. 

"Should we git goin back now? I don't quite like the idea of gittin' caught out here come nightfall. Plus I think I hear a warm cup'a cider callin' my name." Alma finally craned her head up to him, her cheeks red from the cold and her brown eyes hinting at the smile beneath the safety of her scarf.
Karen
Alma didn't need as much help shooting as Rhett had supplied, mainly in the form of standing just off her left shoulder and muttering small encouragements. **Squeeze** *The trigger, don't pull. Use your breathin' to time the shot.* It was all advice he'd gotten from Cliff's dad, Uncle Earl, when they were teenagers, but Alma got along just fine without it. Rhett was just glad to be with her outside the walls of the shack or the Davis barn. Seeing her in the sunshine was a welcome contrast to seeing her by lantern light, though both pictures sure were special. 

They'd been spending a lot of time together, and since Alma'd brought him the blueprints for the cage, Rhett had mostly been under the impression that all those hours logged were under the pretense of work. At the start, he'd been a pair of good hands and sturdy boots for a project, but as the months had gone on, he wasn't sure what he was to Alma anymore. The fact of her asking him out for a day of shooting practice was one he couldn't neatly file into his understanding of their relationship. Still, he took it for what it was: just a beautiful day with a girl that he damned well considered beautiful but hesitated to label her as such in his mind due to the complex nature of their association. 

Ah. *Simple.*
_ _

Alma didn't need to worry herself over making Rhett proud. To him, every angle of herself that she'd shown to him was outlined in gold. She took care of her community, her family, her students. Hell, she took care of *Him.* The only thing she didn't look after so ardently was herself, but Rhett had decided weeks ago that he was more than willing to help her fill in any gaps there. He couldn't bake like she could, or hold a conversation very well. He couldn't draw out figures and schematics, and he didn't have much money. What he could do was walk her home after long nights working, or drape her with a blanket if he noticed her fall quiet in the workshop a room over only to walk in and see her sleeping. He could listen to her talk about her students and what book she'd been reading, and he could accept and eat all the things she cooked for him because he knew it made her happy. He could take her hunting to practice her shot and tell her what he knew. 

"No sorries in huntin' unless I've got yer shot in my leg. Then I'll take a sorry," Rhett laughed, and it was a shining thing. His tired eyes had brightened out here after a day in the woods under the filtered sun of autumn's last hanging leaves. 

"Oh, practice, sure." He nodded, still smiling, "You're well on your way to puttin' a good dinner on the table, Alma. We might be eatin' good by Christmas." He teased, gesturing down to her squirrel. Not too hearty a meal, but the fur on the tail made a damn fine paint brush (which he'd told Alma to keep her spirits up). Rhett'd bagged two rabbits, himself. He could've made it three but he missed the last on purpose to better even the playing field. 
_ _

While Alma's eyes went skyward, Rhett's went to her, and he was still looking when she squinted back to him. 
"I reckon we should. I think I hear that cider callin' me, too." He wouldn't turn back to town until she did, a bit reluctant to leave the sight of her colors out here and the way they paired with the warmth of Fall. As he fell into step beside her, he noticed a flash of yellow out of place. 

"Oh, ah— you've got somethin'..." He laughed, nervously this time as he stopped walking, "You've got somethin' in your hair. I kin just—" Rhett steadied his slightly cold-numbed hand to pluck it out without taking any of her hair with it. A pretty, perfect little maple leaf. He hesitated— agonizingly, but briefly— before he let the light spirit of the day lead him, and smoothed back the strands disturbed by the foliage, careful not to let his touch linger long. His heart still flopped embarrassingly in his chest at the slight contact. He held out the small intruding leaf for her to take. 

"Maybe it's good luck or somethin'."
_ _
Kristopher
Alma had made Rhett laugh, and it felt like she'd won herself some kind of prize. It sounded easy and free and light compared to the ones she'd heard before. It wasn't until they were a few miles out of town that Alma had realized Rhett seemed different out here. Perhaps he was more in his element? Sure, she'd made him laugh before, but it seemed to come easier today. She was grateful for it. The dark bags under his eyes - under both of their eyes, though she'd never admit - almost seemed lighter now. She liked watching him shine like this. She made herself a note to try and get him outside more often if it meant he'd laugh like this. 

Then he was talking about Christmas. Her stomach did a little flip. Was it really time to start thinkin' about Christmas? Surely that was months away? But, no, it was only a couple of months. She supposed she knew Rhett well enough that she needed figure out a present for him. What did Rhett like? Did he need a new pair of work boots? Or could she knit him up a hat? Surely he was getting tired of her baked offerings. She tried to sneak a glance at him out of the corners of her eyes, sweeping her gaze over his clothing. Maybe she should pay a visit to that seamstress? Oh, what was her name again? 

For the first time since July, Alma wasn't thinking about the cage. Just what'd make him smile the biggest and brightest and- 

"I do?" Alma was shaken out of her thoughts as she caught up with what Rhett was saying. She paused in her walking and reached for her hair to fix it, but he'd beat her to it. She froze. He was touching her hair. The leaf was already out and he was willingly touching her hair. Smoothing it back into place. 

The one question seemed to plague her the past few weeks dashed back to the forefront of her mind; was this the action of a friend or...?

_
_ Everything so far had been neatly tucked into boxes and labeled in big, black lettering: "Friend". And, even when it wasn't so neat, she would fold it and cut off its edges until it *Did* Fit. She had to make it fit. She simply could not afford for her to interpret it as anything other than the actions of a friend. 

She needed him. 

This one wouldn't fold quite so easy, though. It was like a blanket left out to dry on a cold winter's day. Crunchy and stiff. It would break if she forced it. So, she left it out to dry on the line instead. That could be done another, warmer day. For now, she tried to pretend the blush that had crept across her cheeks was still from the cold as she gingerly took his gift, her fingers lightly grazing his. She immediately quashed the selfish desire to hold his hand.

"Thank you. I'll take all the good luck I can possibly get these days. " Her voice had gone quieter now without her meaning it to. It was just a silly, little leaf but she looked down at it like he'd just offered her a golden necklace. She pinched it between her forefinger and thumb and rolled its stem, spinning it around.

_
_"Kin I confess something to you, Rhett?" She reached up to hook a finger on her scarf and tug it down again so her voice wouldn't be so quiet. "I been thinkin' recently 'bout us. 'Bout how littler me would'a never thought you n' I would do somethin' like this together. If I could go back and speak to myself ten years ago and say that that me n' Rhett Sterling would be good friends, I think I would'a looked at myself like I'd grown a third head!" She laughed a little and got brave enough to look him in the eye for just a second. 

"I'm grateful you came back home. Grateful I got to know you as an adult instead."

Dog chose just that moment to come crashing back through the underbrush. He was walking lopsided. There was a large, heavy branch in his mouth that was about as thick as an arm and still had quite a few twigs stuck to it. 

"Lord, Dog! You think you're gonna haul that thing all the way home?" Alma teased, holding back her laughter. Dog's only response was the furious wag of his tail and globs of drool that fell from his lips onto his floppy ears. Lovely.
Karen
*Kin I confess something?*

Oh, good Lord. Great, merciful God, was this the clarification he'd been–

*I been thinkin' recently 'bout us.*

He wasn't ready. He shouldn't have put his confusion into the universe, because he was *Not* Ready to reckon with what this meant for the two of them–

Oh. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his thundering heart rudely reminding him of what Alma meant to him, which frankly, was more than he was prepared to quantify, especially in this moment. He felt like he was under attack– a great werewolf of intimacy crashing through the window glass of his chest. But he was safe. He was so, so safe. His bewilderment was replaced by a sad smile as he finally fell in step with Alma's words. 

Rhett didn't blame her for trying to make sense of their friendship from the shoes of her former self. They hadn't been close when they were young, and just the opposite: Rhett had stood by to witness ugly words thrown Alma's way by the hands of kids he'd considered friends. Over the past few months of them getting to know each other as adults as she'd said, Rhett had spent a lot of time simmering in quiet regret for how he'd stayed silent back then. He'd chosen to follow those kids because they'd offered a kind of brotherhood that felt healing to him. His childhood had been exceedingly lonely, and in those boys, however nasty they could be, he'd recognized the prize of loyal companionship and strength in numbers. 

"I'm grateful, too." He promised, meeting her eyes. Now was the moment to tell her all the things he was sorry for, and he set into the task before he lost the nerve. 
_ _

"'N I'm sorry, Alma. For how we knew each other when we was kids. I was real good at hiding behind other people, then– I guess I still am. But I'm better at sayin' sorry these days." He winced, growing immediately spirited with another thought, "'N I'm sorry for how I was to you when you came around to the shack that first time. You were hurtin' in so many ways 'n I was too worried 'bout myself to be a good man to you when you needed one." By now, he'd looked away from her, back to the woods behind her where he heard a far-off and slightly worrying thrashing in the leaves, "And I'm sorry it took me months to... To *Tell* You I was sorry." 

The rustling grew louder, but the light of day somehow kept the fear in the eaves of his mind. Maybe he'd sensed all along it must've been Dog, informed by the bloodhound's absence from their heels, because when the creature made his entrance, Rhett gave a peal of easy laughter. He was unburdened by unloading his owed apologies, and joy came easy, though he couldn't help but half-hope Dog's conveniently distracting presence would keep Alma from focusing too hard on the words freshly out of his mouth. 

"Aw, he jus' needs a little help, don't he? Here, Dog, lemme give ya a hand." Rhett trundled through the fallen leaves to the bloodhound, his voice taking on a playful, even childlike quality, "You gon' let me lighten your load there, pal?" He gingerly lifted the slumped side of the branch, half expecting a game of tug o' war to begin. 
_ _
Kristopher
*"I'm grateful, too."* 

There was a relief that came with those words. Alma could have floated back to town on that alone. Let sleeping dogs lie and let the sins of the past be forgotten. Even if Rhett hadn't intended it in those simple words, Alma had already forgiven him by the time he started apologizing; something she most certainly wasn't expecting, but was grateful for. 

Half of her had figured he wouldn't remember the bullying the way she did. Frankly, she would've been fine with that. It was never Rhett who was doing the teasin'. He certainly kept foul company, but Alma didn't remember a time that he was slinging venomous words her way. It would've made perfect sense for him to have forgotten about the book shy girl his friends used to sling insults at, but he remembered. So, she thanked him quietly. 

Him apologizing for their first meeting, however, really took her by surprise. "It's alright, Rhett. We was practically strangers when I showed up at your door this summer. In fact, the only reason I knew you were back in town was from the way folks were gossipin' about you at back at Bigby's. You know how it is," She joked in an attempt to mask just how impactful his words had truly been. 

*"... I was too worried 'bout myself to be a good man to you when you needed one. And I'm sorry it took me months to... To tell you I was sorry."*

Alma knew what a good man looked like. He was fictional. He wore armor and rode into battle on a fiery steed and pulled princesses from their prisons. He knew how to slay dragons in one chapter and then dance the night away in the next. Most importantly of all, he wasn't real.

Alma's image of a good man shattered during her childhood. Her Papa went off to fight in the War when she turned 12. Her older brother was off working the coal mines before she'd even reached 5. When the draft came, so much of the town had been taken over by women that Alma could only ever find good men in books. Then, the men who came home came back twisted, just like her Papa did. She learned quick there was no such thing as a truly good man, and that was okay. Her Mama taught her how to handle the world without them. 

Being a good man was just an ideal to aspire to. Alma hadn't come to Rhett expecting him to be good. She'd come to him because he could work steel. 

But, Rhett, she realized, was the closest she'd ever come to meeting a good man in the flesh. He listened to her when her sanity felt like it was cracking at the seams. He worried over her back when her leg was freshly broken. He allowed to her chatter about whatever book she'd just finished with boundless patience. He nursed Spider back to life, and he knew how to treat both Spider and Dog right. 

She realized his goodness was buried in the color of his laughter and the easy way he went over to 'help' Dog. The world felt a little colder without him at her side. Rather than unpack that thought, she allowed her instinct to have her follow him a few paces back.

_ 
_ The Bloodhound had no intentions of handing over its hard earned trophy. He let out a playful growl and, the second Rhett's fingers landed on the branch, Dog set about tugging with all his might. The forest floor was slick with damp leaves, though, and he went skittering this way and that, all the while letting out growls that'd seem ferocious were it not for the way his tail wagged like sapling in a thunderstorm. 

"Somethin' tells me you ain't helpin' him too terribly much, Rhett!" Alma managed between peals of laughter. "If you two goofballs keep that up, we're gonna be stuck walkin' home in the dark! Don't make me leave you two behind!" The threat was nothing but a load of hot air. Still, she took a few slow steps backward, waiting for them to turn around. Soon as she caught their eyes, she whipped around and started leading them back towards town.