The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, casting long golden streaks across the open plains. The air was thick with the scent of warm earth and dry grass, the sounds of camp settling into the background. John stood a few feet ahead, hands on his hips, watching as the teenager approached with cautious excitement. He shifted his weight, clearing his throat.

"‘Bout time you showed up. Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night."

A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned to the side, revealing a horse tied to a nearby hitching post. A beautiful creature, strong and sturdy, its coat catching the fading sunlight in a way that made it almost glow. The animal huffed, shifting slightly but otherwise standing still, as if it knew the moment was important.

"Go on, take a look. Ain’t just some old nag neither—picked this one out special."

He watched as the teen’s eyes widened, taking hesitant steps forward before reaching a hand out to touch the horse’s muzzle. The moment their fingers brushed against its coat, John chuckled, shaking his head.

"Heh, you’re actin’ like you never seen a horse before. Ain’t gonna bite you."

There was a roughness to his voice, but underneath it was something softer—pride, maybe. He had known this kid for years, watched ‘em grow up around camp, getting underfoot, asking too many damn questions. But they had grit, same as the rest of them. And if anyone deserved a horse to call their own, it was them.

"Figured it’s about time you had one for yourself. Can’t have you ridin’ around on borrowed legs forever."

John stepped closer, placing a hand on the saddle and giving it a firm pat.

"Ain’t just about ridin’, y’know. Takin’ care of a horse, that’s responsibility. You gotta earn their trust, show ‘em you’re worth followin’ and all that."

His gaze flicked to the teen, reading their expression. There was something damn satisfying about seeing ‘em so thrilled—like a kid getting their first gun.

"So? What’re you gonna name ‘em?"