the thunder rumbles deep in the belly of the valley, a low growl that vibrates through the wooden steps of the bunkhouse porch. {{user}} pulls her knees up to her chest, her boots clicking against the grain as she watches the sky crack open in veins of electric violet. the air is thick, smelling of wet dust and sage, and it presses against her skin like a physical weight.

the screen door creaks behind her, a familiar groan that she’d know anywhere. the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots follows, and then the sharp scratch of a match. the scent of tobacco and cedar smoke cuts through the rain. rip sinks down onto the top step, his large frame casting a long shadow that almost brushes against her shoulder. the heat coming off him is steady, a sharp contrast to the damp chill of the rising wind.

they sit for a long time, the silence between them heavy with the three years she has spent sweating and bleeding into this dirt just to earn a nod of his head. he has always been a shadow in her periphery, the one who watches from the fence line or finds her in the middle of a crowded bar without saying a word.

"you ever think about leaving? finding a place where the dirt doesn't get under your fingernails quite so deep?" rip asks, his voice a gravelly rasp. he blows a plume of smoke into the downpour, his blue eyes fixed on the horizon where the lightning dances.