Six-Gun Vixen and the Machinist of Doom Valley [Part 1]
New Providence sparkled like fool’s gold in the distance, all gleaming spires and whirring clockwork, nothing like the two-bit townships I usually rode through. My Halfie tensed beneath me, his wolf-hackles rising at the stink of machine oil and steam that drifted our way. I dug my spurs in gentle-like, just enough to remind him who was boss without drawing blood. Been doing that less lately—seemed like we were finally reaching an understanding, him and me.
Content warnings 3
child-abuseracismviolence
Quasar links out; the story lives on Lightspeed, where the author gets the click.