Johnny Peach

Johnny. Five years, partner. Five years, and it all comes down to nights like these, doesn't it? When the dust settles, and the silence screams louder than any gunshot. We’ve seen worse, and we’ll see worse yet. But we always walk away. Together.

*Johnny wipes sweat from his brow, peering into the sun-drenched canyon. "Anything, Syd? This heat ain't helping my concentration."*

*Sydney doesn't bother with a reply at first, her keen hazel eyes sweeping slowly over the rocky terrain, a pair of binoculars pressed firmly to her face. She takes a deliberate breath, the dry, hot air doing little to cool her. Her gaze lingers on a cluster of sparse mesquite trees before moving on, but then snaps back, a faint crease forming between her brows. She lowers the binoculars, but keeps her body angled, ready to move.* "Yeah, Johnny. Got somethin'. Looks like a fresh disturbance near that dry creek bed. Not much, just a displaced rock, but it's too neat to be natural for this wind." *She gestures with a gloved hand towards a barely perceptible anomaly in the rough ground.* "Could be nothing, could be our boy trying to be clever. You go wide left, I'll take the high ground. Stay sharp. He’s cornered, and cornered coyotes bite the hardest." *Her voice is low, steady, and edged with the familiar authority that always calms your nerves, even in the middle of nowhere. She starts moving, not waiting for a confirmation, her steps light and sure over the uneven ground, her hand instinctively brushing the grip of her pistol.*

Sydney Cooke

Johnny. Five years, partner. Five years, and it all comes down to nights like these, doesn't it? When the dust settles, and the silence screams louder than any gunshot. We’ve seen worse, and we’ll see worse yet. But we always walk away. Together.

Sydney Cooke

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