Let's Shake Some Dust (DenmarkXReader Ch. 3)

    It was hot. Unbearably hot. It made Mathias wish he had less black and dark colors in his wardrobe. The barren landscape was basically nothing but dirt, rocks, and the occasional piece of brush here and there, and then there was two people dumb enough to brave the heat with two horses. Other people (i.e. the sheriff that caught wind of this operation thanks to the help of the very concerned bartender in the saloon) warned them not to even go near the Valley of Death, but (Name) was a stubborn woman, and she was not about to give up on something she’d spent so long preparing for.
       
    “(Name), elskling,” Mathias started, wiping the sweat from his face with his handkerchief, “May I tell you something?”
       
    “And what might that be, Mr. Køhler?”
       
    “When I first got here, I almost died of heat stroke. I don’t plan on doing it again,” he sighed, “I come from a land that’s much colder, and so this is kind of making me feel like I am being baked,”
       
    (Name) raised an eyebrow as she looked over at him, “What made you leave?”
       
    “Erm… I don’t really like to talk about it,”
       
    “Well, you can tell me. It’s not like I’d have anyone to tell. And if we die on the way here, it’ll die with me,” (Name) shrugged.
       
    Mathias thought that over, fair enough, “Well, it was three years ago. I didn’t know any English and I started out a little farther up the north,” he began, “Anyway, before I actually arrived here, there was a lot of commotion going on in Danmark-- and Norway for that matter-- I didn’t have a lot of options back home in Copenhagen, because you could either be in debt, or you could be dead. And I didn’t want either of those, so someone told me that it’d be better over here. The English had been over here for a while and everyone was talking about it, so I decided to give it a go,”
       
    “And you haven’t been back since, huh?” (Name) asked, looking over at him again.
     
    “Nej, but maybe in a few years or so I might go back. Or maybe after this, since I’m getting paid. Who knows,” he shrugged.
         
    (Name) just nodded and kept her eyes on the path before them. She didn’t know what it was like being a foreigner, as she’d been born miles away from where they were in an itty bitty town. Her parents had a small farm that fed them, and they sold the excess goods to people around town, so they made a good living. She married a man that she’d been friends with since they were little tykes. They moved into a different town, but not less than three years later he died of some disease they didn’t know how to cure. It took him so young, but she refused to wear all black just to signify she was in mourning. That was just plain stupid around these parts.
       
    Mathias didn’t say much after that, thinking about a few things, mainly trying to see if he’d actually go back to his homeland after three years of not being there. None of his friends had written letters to him, not that they could, he was always moving around, so it’s not like they could know where he’d be. After a while of thinking, and the only sounds to be heard were the sounds of the horses walking and clanking of some things, he looked over at (Name).
       
    “Ms. (Name), if you don’t mind me asking, why embark on this journey for your dead husband? Did you truly love him?” he asked. It was kind of an insensitive question, but he was quite curious.
       
    (Name) frowned a bit at the question, the ends of her lips tilting downwards a bit, “I loved him more like a brother than a wife. We never even had children together, but that’s mainly because he got sick a year shortly after we got married. But I did love him, just not in the way I should’ve. I felt guilty, God only knows why… So that’s why I wanted to do this, to see him one last time and tell him that I was sorry, maybe I’d feel less guilty after that,”
       
    Mathias was kind of shocked at this. That was kind of sad. Sadder than any of the life stories he’d heard from many a town whore whom of which he got drunk instead of had sex with. He kind of felt sorry for asking, “Well, Ms. (Name), seeing as the amount you’re paying me is way above the amount you should be paying for a bounty hunter like myself, I’ll see to it that you can reunite with your dead husband one last time for some closure and make it out alive,”

       “Thank you, Mr. Køhler. I very much appreciate that,” (Name) smiled softly, it being one of the more genuine ones she’d let slip past her features in a long while.


This journey might not have been such a bad idea after all.