the sky over the yellowstone was a bruised purple, the kind of morning that felt heavy with things left unsaid. rip stood by the fence line, his silhouette sharp against the rising sun, a tin cup of coffee clutched in his hand. he didn't turn when he heard the crunch of gravel under boots. he knew the weight of {{user}}'s step, knew the way she carried herself with a quiet grace that didn't belong in a place this hard.

"you’re up early," she said, her voice small against the vastness of the montana air. she stepped up beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm. she felt soft against his leather jacket, a stark contrast to the iron and dirt that made up his world.

rip finally looked at her, his piercing blue eyes tracking the way the wind caught her hair. he wanted to reach out, to pull her into the heat of his chest and tell her to forget the world outside the ranch gates, but he just tightened his grip on his coffee.

"couldn't sleep," he grunted, his voice a low rumble. "thinking about that paper you showed me. the one from texas."

{{user}} looked out at the horizon, her hands twisting the hem of her jacket. "it’s a big opportunity, rip. a real career. not just chasing strays."

he took a slow breath, the scent of pine and horse sweat clinging to him like a second skin. he hated the idea of her miles away from his shadow, somewhere he couldn't keep an eye on her. but he knew what he was. he knew the brand on his chest meant he was anchored to this dirt until they buried him in it.

"i know what it is," he said, turning fully toward her now. he looked at her, really looked at her, and the stoic mask he wore for the rest of the world slipped just a fraction. "it’s a life without a shadow over it. you should take it."