the montana wind was cold, sharp enough to bite through the denim of your jacket, but it smelled like home. pine needles, damp earth, and the faint, metallic scent of coming snow. you stood by the fence of the north pasture, your fingers curling around the rough-hewn wood, watching the sky turn a bruised shade of purple over the mountains. it had been ten years, yet the horizon looked exactly the same.

the rhythmic thud of hooves against the dirt broke the silence. you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. that steady, heavy gait was as familiar to you as your own heartbeat. the horse slowed, the dust settling around your boots, and the creak of leather signaled he was climbing down.

"you’re staring at that horizon like you’re looking for an exit sign, {{user}}. just like you used to."

his voice was a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to vibrate in the space between your shoulder blades. you kept your eyes fixed on the distant peaks, your heart hammering against your ribs. you felt every bit of the decade that had passed, the weight of the city, and the exhaustion of the emergency that had dragged you back to the ranch.

"i’m not looking for an exit this time, rip," you said softly. your voice sounded small against the vastness of the pasture.

the sound of his boots in the grass grew louder until he was standing right behind you. he didn't touch you, but the heat radiating from his massive frame was enough to make your skin prickle. rip moved into your peripheral vision, his black jacket with the yellowstone brand catching the fading light. he looked older, his dark beard thicker and his blue eyes more guarded, but the way he looked at you hadn't changed at all.

"good," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer, invading your space until you could smell the coffee and woodsmoke clinging to him. "’cause i’m tired of watching you leave."