Megan
The morning had brought with it the sort of inescapable chill that seeped through clothing, straight into bone. By the time Blanca rode into Briar Ridge she looked thoroughly irritated with the loss of sensation in her cheeks. Her nose and mouth were covered by a massive scarf, and her eyes were narrowed against the harsh, wintry light as she scanned the main roads for signs of the lumberyard.

She was looking for Dallas, presumably the owner. How he had come to be named after a town in Texas was beyond Blanca, but it had put him prematurely into her good books, for now. The words heavy metal bear traps were like music to her ears. What she didn't understand was werewolf. What in the hell was a werewolf? Some special type of wolf they had up here? Was that what had been wreaking havoc on everybody's property? 

In any case, she was here to find out. Control was delicious to Blanca, especially considering how little she actually had. As she dismounted and tied up her mare, Blanca tugged her scarf loose with the yank of an index finger. Before she did anything, spoke to anyone, she took a healthy look around the area. She was nothing if not stubborn - better to suss out which one was Dallas than to ask and be caught with a stupid question.
Scott
The town was ***Buzzing***. Now, that wasn't a particularly *Odd* Statement so soon after a full moon, but there were two major occurrences that made this round of attacks different. 

One: The rumor that Valerian Barca had a gun that could make a werewolf scream for its Mama. 
Two: Multiple townspeople *Swore* They'd seen a bear trap dug into the leg of the werewolf that attacked Rafael Guerrero. 

Both of them had Alma's interest. Try as she may to be prim and proper, she was a terrible affinity for gossip. It only took an afternoon for her to have caught wind of the second rumor and, when she spotted the notice posted about setting bear traps, Alma decided it was time to put the hunting skills Rhett had shown her to good use. *Strong* Wasn't necessarily a word she identified with, but she hoped Dallas Sinclair could overlook her weakness in light of her eagerness to learn more. After all, the cage was a trap too, and Alma hadn't spent much time with Dallas outside of his volunteerin' for The Cage. 

Alma arrived on foot. The brisk walk had put some color into her cheeks, but it hadn't kept the cold from leeching the feeling out of her fingers. She was eager to step inside a set of four walls when she realized there was a figure up ahead with their head on a swivel and a horse. "Mornin'!" She called out, not quite able to identify the figure from that distance, but she wasn't keen on spookin' 'em, either. It was a beat before Alma realized she was looking at none other than Blanca Ochoa Cervantes; a woman she had only ever heard of, but never crossed paths with. The Ochoa's had come to town with a whole cloud of rumors around them, and Alma didn't quite know what to make of her public appearance.

_ _ 
"Just an *Awful* Chill in the air today, ain't it?" She asked to make light conversation, rubbing her gloves together briskly as she approached. "Sure hope the sun brings a bit'a warmth with it here soon! Don't imagine you're here for Dallas, too, are ya?" She offered up a pleasant enough grin and selfishly cozied up against the lumbermill's wall to keep the wind from cutting through her layers.
Jeffrey
The man in question was inside the building, preparing for the long day ahead of him. He'd already piled in the bear traps into the wooden wagon; it would be easier to traverse the woods with it, rather than try and navigate his truck through the dense wood. The wagon sat by the front of the building's door, and when he stepped out, he seemed surprised to find two women coming up the long road. 

He'd never been good at speaking, and the fairer sex had been an elusive mystery to him his entire life. The only point of reference he'd had for women was his younger sister, and she was no help. She was aggressive and snappish and spoiled, which had only grown in some ways since the baby had been born. 

He knew Alma Cooper from the cage building, but she still remained a mystery. Blanca, on the other hand, was just a name on the lips of the people around town. It didn't matter, though; he just needed volunteers. 

"Mornin'," He said, clearing his throat as he shut the door behind him. "You here for lumber?" He asked, hands shoved in his pockets. "Or you here for...?" He jerked his head towards the hand cart full of bear traps, heavy as all hell. "Could right use a hand if yer willing." 

His eyes flickered between the two women. Alma seemed strong from what he'd seen, at least in that she knew her way around tools to a degree. Blanca, still a mystery, looked like she at least had the tenacity to get the job done, which was good enough for him. 

"Any of you's needs anything here, JD's inside... Can get you whatever y' need." He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, trying not to look awkward as all get out.
Megan
She saw the woman in her periphery and nearly did a double-take. If Blanca didn't know any better she might have wondered if the short woman in her periphery with the purposeful walk was her mother. When she fixed her shrewd gaze on the woman she was pleased to hear an extension of what she had heard referred to as 'Southern hospitality' — a kindness sometimes contrived, but useful at the very least for the smoothing-over of things.

Blanca could wait out the prattling-on and pleasantries, but her smile became a genuine one once the woman explained that she, too, had come in search of Dallas; previously polite and tight in nature, her mouth stretched wide across her face.

"I am," She confirmed with a crisp, singular nod. "I saw the notice in town. I am Blanca Ochoa Cervantes. What is your name?" 

To see another woman here was refreshing, and Blanca looked forward to getting to know her, whoever she was. Blanca spoke with a politician's easy confidence. In her earlier years she wore her father's charisma like an oversized hand-me-down coat; as time matured her, she had fashioned that coat into a garment all her own, dark and iridescent like a cloak of grackles' feathers. The frayed and torn areas she had yet to deal with were tucked away perhaps not so neatly as they could have been, and oft revealed themselves with the ruffling of those feathers.

The exchange was punctuated by the arrival of Dallas, his identity confirmed by the familiarity with which Alma regarded him. Blanca's smile shrank back to something polite and utilitarian, though there was an easy warmth in her eyes. Helping seemed to be the most opportune path as far as establishing her allyship with the community. Blanca's respect for Dallas dwindled a little as she watched the way he stood, as though he wasn't entirely sure of himself. Odd, for someone in charge, she thought — but perhaps there was a reason. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, for now.
_ _

"The traps, yes," She confirmed, nodding. "You are Dallas? It's nice to meet you. My name is Blanca. I saw your letter. I would like to help you. My family's *Hacienda* — the ranch — it's just south of the bridge. Plenty of space for traps."
Scott
Within the span of 5 seconds, Alma decided that Blanca was intimidating. She liked it. There was a comfort to be found in a woman who could her own. Earning her smile made Alma brave enough to cross the distance between them and offer her hand to be shaken as they introduced themselves. 

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Blanca," She drawled, tasting the woman's name in her Southern accent. "I'm Alma Cooper. The school teacher." And the Mayor's daughter, but she wasn't the type to gloat about something like that. "I saw that notice in town, too. I'll do anythin' if it involves trappin' those bastards!" She punctuated that with a short laugh and then turned to face the movement she'd caught coming from the mill's door. 

"Morning, Dallas," She chirped right back at him and then allowed Blanca to take the lead. She found herself nodding along to her words as she rubbed her hands together to try and bring some feeling back to her fingers before they set off. 

"Neither of us are here for the lumber, I'm afraid. Looks like we're your muscle!" She wished she felt as confident as she sounded right then. That cart did not look light. Although Alma had no way of knowing how strong Blanca was, she knew that *She* Would have to take a couple of breaks. Perhaps it would be best for her to offer assistance now before they hit the snags of roots and rocks in the forest proper. So, she stepped up to the cart's handle as prompted. Her eyes darted between the two, all too happy to allow them to choose where they were headed next.
Jeffrey
The man was tall and broad but still managed to find himself intimidated by the women in front of him. Alma Cooper was the leader of the Anti-Werewolf Coalition, after all, and Blanca... Well, she looked straight through him like he wasn't much but the man providing the traps. Honest to God, he felt like he should be asking *Her* What to do in this situation. 

"Glad to have the both of ya," He said, nodding his head towards that hand cart. He'd managed it alright last time on his own, but then again, he'd only brought so many traps last time. This time, he'd be more ready. 

"Think we oughta spread up pretty far. They always seem to come through that ol' section of woods. Dunno if there's a base 'r what, but that first night, I done heard 'em nearby when I was leaving work here." 

He cleared his throat and grasped onto the other handle. "Figure we can spread some out in the woods and work our way down towards the ranch. Get a wide spread, maybe we'll catch 'em. Figure we could also set some up 'round the safe houses," He suggested. "Them things nearly always gettin' attacked." 

He gestured down the path. "Maybe a few round the Ol' Davis Ruins, too. I been thinking about building some sturdy fencing around the safehouses. You think that might do somethin'?" He asked Alma; she seemed the clear leader in all this anti-werewolf business, after all.
Megan
Dallas was handsome in a vulnerable sort of way, which registered him immediately in Blanca's mind as *Safe.* He seemed respectful, and besides that, his goals were aligned with her own, so he was in her good books as useful indeed.

She listened intensely as he spoke; much of what she heard was new information. The Davis ruins... She'd have to ask about those, though she was fairly certain that dilapidated old house near the hill must be the place. The idea of *Safehouses* Intrigued her, and Blanca felt the muscles in her ear twitch. Were townsfolk gathering in groups on the full moons?
Scott
Oh. Well. So much for enjoying not being the leader for once! When Dallas's gaze cut to her, she forced on a quick smile. 

Just two years ago— No, no, no. Just six months ago, she never would have found herself in a position like this. She would have just stammered something excusable as an agreement and did everything she could to melt into the background. She wouldn't have even dreamed of offering up help to do something so physical when she knew she had no talent for it, but the world had changed. *She* Had changed. She'd learned to lift heavy steel plates and hammer boards and delegate tasks. Sure, she was nowhere near as strong as Dallas or charming as Blanca's smile was already proving to be, but folks' eyes kept falling back to her for some reason. So, she swallowed hard and flickered on a smile. 

"Sounds like we got a whole bunch of work to get done!" She tried to sound upbeat about the day ahead as she hoisted up her side of the cart - *God was it heavy!* - and started towards the first patch of woods he'd mentioned. "I'd certainly be happy to have them added 'round the ruins n' safehouses. When my place was attacked last, the thing seemed to be testin' the boards to see which window would be easiest to break through. Wouldn't be a bad idea at all to have one or two tucked into some bushes or around the corner of a house. We'd just wanna make sure folks warn their kids not to play there... 

"Speakin of, are you tellin' folks where you're puttin these? Just... There's a whole lot of 'em. You ain't worried about some kids wanderin' into 'em or a hunter steppin' wrong?"

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Jeffrey
He lifted his half with ease, chugging along the path as he listened to Alma's words. She seemed a bit on edge, the forced smile didn't go unnoticed. She sure had a lot on those shoulders, he knew that much. What, with the school and the coalition... 

"Don't you worry none, I've got it all figured out. Gonna go 'round and post some notices about them traps once we're done here, let people know where to be careful," He nodded to Alma. "I got it under control." 

He wanted her to know that, despite his inability to talk to many people, he was a reliable member of the party. "Besides, I ain't gonna set no traps too close to the houses until the day of the moon. No sense in doin' it early. These is just to make sure some of them don't get too close to town if we can help it." 

Down the path and into the heavy wood, he gestured towards a clearing a little ways off the path. "Here's a good start, ya think?" He said, letting the cart come to a stop and casting a look back at his two companions. "Y'all grab a few and we'll nail 'em down."
Megan
She didn't know what she'd done, but she knew she'd done something. Perennially sensitive to the emotions of those around her, the tension was hardly lost on Blanca in the moment. She should have been quicker to grab one side of the cart. Guilt flooded her, starting with her toes and lurching into her stomach where it met with the anxiety that no one here was ever going to take her seriously if she didn't look willing to participate.

*Now is not the time,* She told herself for the hundredth reason, the hundredth time that week. Still, that nagging thought was there: *They're thinking about your incompetence; they think you're lazy; they think you were just waiting to see who'd help.* In another universe, maybe she might've been able to live without relentlessly endeavoring to disprove her own thoughts. 

She wore an easy, confident smile, but Blanca's eyes were hard to catch. The rancher took stock of their surroundings once the trio entered the clearing, and she nodded, curt and businesslike. She took the traps as instructed, noting their weight compared to the ones her cousins used on the ranch. The solidity of the metal sent goosebumps up her arms, for more reasons than one. What the hell was going on on her ranch, if her own traps were so comparatively light?

Her expression darkened a little at Alma's comment and she nodded as her mind drifted to her niece and nephews, all of whom were prone to flights of fancy and all of whom were equally likely to land themselves in a trap. She appreciated Dallas' response. 

"I have been meaning to ask about the ruins," Blanca began, studying Alma with a careful expression. "I would be happy to go there and help set traps. I would like to get to know the area." Her expression darkened a little. 

"You have safehouses?" She asked just then, glancing between the two of them. Surely in the response she'd learn the meaning of the term and not have to ask.
_ _

"For the full moon. What do you do there?"
Scott
Dallas's words soothed Alma's worries and she tried to show it by smiling brighter at him, but she was quickly getting to be out of breath. All she could manage was a quick nod of acknowledgement. It was taking the better part of her focus not to let her side of the cart drop down any lower than it already had. Both of her hands were wrapped so tightly around the handle that she wasn't quite sure she'd be able to let go when the time came. 

But it did, graciously, come. She tried not to let out a sigh of relief (and failed) as she set her side down a bit more forcefully than she'd intended, jostling the traps inside with an series of metallic clangs. She just smiled as an apology and ignored the immediate, shameful flush that came across her cheeks. Dallas had asked for someone *Strong*. She should've thought this through more. Her fingers were shaking and she quickly stuffed them into her coat pockets to hide them from her companions. 

"That spot looks perfect to me," She agreed, though she hesitated at the moment of reckoning. She knew she should grab up the first one and hop to, but Blanca was providing her an excellent excuse to delay. 

"Of course, Miss Ochoa. I cain't fault you none for never havin' been; they ain't much to look at yet, right Dallas?" Her eyes cut across to him, knowing full well he'd been instrumental in both getting them the lumber they'd required and the reconstruction efforts themselves. Despite the amount of time they'd spent in each other's company, they'd hardly held a conversation. Most of that was Alma's willingness to respect his apparent desire for solitude, but now that the three of them were workin' together...

_ _ 
"You're more'n welcome to swing by anytime. The beasts sure seem to have taken a likin' to it. The more traps, the better I say." Speaking of, Alma glanced back down at the cart. She breathed in deep to gather her resolve and curled her fingers around the nearest one and— oh! It wasn't too heavy! She could hardly hide the shock - *And relief!* - that shot across her features before she grinned. At least *This* Was a hurdle she could overcome! 

"The safehouses?" She echoed. "The sheriff came up with 'em. We bunker up in groups. Make sure there's at least a few armed men n' women in each house just in case somethin' comes sniffin'. Here's hopin' these traps help put an end to that." With that, she was off down the Dallas had gestured towards. 

"Dallas, and I, and the other volunteers all stay at the Ruins, though. Has the ranch held up alright?"
Jeffrey
Lord knows, he'd spent a hell of a lot of his time working for Alma Cooper these days; the lumberyard had nearly taken a backseat to the werewolf coalition, and rightfully so. What time was there to worry about lumber when there were things to be done about town? That same lumber was now being used to fix homes ripped apart by werewolves, supplies now going directly into help repairing the ruins and building the cage up. He trusted Alma Cooper a hell of a lot more than he trusted most people, perhaps JD Monroe the only outlier in that statement. 

"That's right," He agreed with her readily, hauling out those traps and beginning to set them; he pulled the hammer from the loop on his pants and began to drive the spikes down into the solid ground, cold from the winter air. "Ladies, there's some spikes in that there cart to keep these things in place. I was thinking we could drive a few into the trees too, test which ones might be better at holdin' down."

He fell silent again, letting Alma take charge in all that coalition business. She was far more eloquent than he could've ever been, which was somewhat of a relief. God knows, he was shocked people had even shown up after that terribly written sign on the notice board; he'd never been the best speller in his class when he *Had* Been in school.

"We can always use more people who know their way around a gun... Right Miss Alma?" He looked over at her, as if seeking some kind of approval or acceptance for the statement. 

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Megan
Alright. This couldn't be too hard. She was good at looking like she knew what she was doing. Mostly.

Blanca strode forward and picked up a spike, tentative as she did so. She was frowning all the while, unaware that her tempestuous state of mind had manifested on her face, and she looked awfully stormy for a moment before the expression melted into surprise, then an attempt at neutrality, tinged in shame. 

Her attention fixed on Dallas as he mentioned guns — but his deference to Alma in spite of his expertise suggested that Alma was very much the de facto leader of whatever faction had been created here. She followed his lead and fixed her gaze on the schoolteacher-turned-steelworker.

"I don't mean to brag, but I'm a pretty good shot," She offered. "And I'd like to keep my family safe — as safe as I can." *There's black stuff in the water,* She thought, but it was Alma's turn to speak, and Blanca was curious to hear her answer. 

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Scott
*Spikes?* 

Alma blinked down at the trap she still cradled. Oh. Well, that certainly made sense. It would need a way to stay grounded, wouldn't it? Alma cursed herself for not having bothered to research these traps before accepting Dallas's posting. Her enthusiasm had blinded her. She tried not to let it show on her face as she ~~gingerly set~~ *Gracelessly plopped* The trap on the ground and went to fetch its spike. 

"Certainly," She agreed with Dallas just as readily as he had. He even won himself a small smile, even if it was a nervous one. "Every bullet we get into them is another reminder that we won't back down." There was something harder in her voice just then. A single thread of spite is woven into the curl of each syllable. It would be easy to miss if you weren't paying keen attention to her normally pleasant pattern.

"But, I understand if you might prefer to stay home and look after your own, Miss Ochoa," She spoke as she plucked up a spike and returned to the trap. "The werewolves seem to like comin' round the safe houses, but I think stayin' in groups seems the best way. Keeps the most amount of guns possible pointed their way, but, after what happened to Miss Bigby, I... Well, I just don't know what's best no more. Word is you got an awful big family though, right? Y'all have enough guns to keep the ranch covered?" Then, quickly, as if she'd only just remembered, "And how's Addie, Dallas? How's her little boy doin'?" 
_ _

Alma took a moment to pull off her glove before she jammed the spike in the ground as far as it would go by hand (which wasn't very far at all) and drew up the courage to breach Dallas's personal space. "Kin I borrow that, please?" She held out her hand for his hammer. Her exposed palms were covered in new and half-healed blisters that looked every bit as angry and painful as they felt, but Alma looked up at him expectantly as if it was completely normal. As if there weren't dark bags growing beneath her eyes or as if she hadn't occasionally been found sleeping next to the cage curled around her pistol like a mad woman. She wasn't going to complain, though. Not when Dallas had been workin' just as hard as the rest of them. And, hopefully, Blanca could join in on the efforts soon, too.
Jeffrey
He was just glad for the extra hands, no matter the level of knowledge they had on these kinds of things. Besides, he felt like the job wasn't too hard, and they seemed to be doin' just fine in planting the traps around. 

"Wayne is doin' just fine," He told Alma, and that was the truth. He cried, certainly, and did so often. He seemed to have people he liked and didn't like - he would cry extra hard when they had to go into town, but seemed to settle right down when he was being cradled by JD's younger sister Joanna. He loved his nephew, even when he cried half the night and kept him up til the early light cast over Briar Ridge. 

He paused and turned to the side, relinquishing the hammer to Alma Cooper with ease. "Ground's hard as a block'a ice, ain't it?" He said to her, casting his look from her to Blanca and then to the open area. They still had a long way's to go, setting these traps up. He saw how hard Alma was working. She was fighting the fight harder than the rest of them, and he knew it. "Y' hold onna that," He said to her. "I kin use my boot if I gotta." He assured her, eyes casting back on the ground. "When we're done, we can gon' down." He pointed further along the path. 

The trio worked tirelessly; little more was said between them, other than the occasional request for a spike or a hammer tossed their way. Down the ridge, into the holler proper, they worked until that big sun was setting on the horizon. As the final spike was driven into the ground, Dallas wiped the cold sweat off his brow and prayed to God that this would make some kinda difference in the end. 

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