They call it cowboying up. Wyatt knows it, he knows better than anyone. Scraping himself off the pavement, putting his head down, and moving on. It shouldn't be this fucking hard, yet here he is. Run off his own land, losing everything to his ex-wife in the divorce, and now? Felt like three damned lives lived, all before his sixth birthday. Whatever-- fuck her.
Fuck her and the horse she rode in on.
Wyatt moves inland, head high, gaze bright. He's somewhere new, and he's a brand new man. He'd be a brand new man, as soon as he'd thawed out some. The swim was freezing, alright? Shaking the remaining water from his tail, Wyatt is high-headed as he takes in the new digs. Sure, it wasn't anywhere worth staying, but maybe he'd encounter a local or two on his way out.
Getting his bearings would take time. There were islands scattered about, like they'd been dropped like some enormous hand. A chain like none he'd ever seen, each different from the next. In order to disrupt them, he'd need to learn them all. Well, fuck it. Seemed like Wyatt had his work cutout for him after all. A little rest, and then? It was all about a new life to live.
andalusian mix. 17.1. sooty bay splash.
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