Gingerly putting down his weapons, Earl took a big gulp of air. His legs felt like they'd been filled with Fannie's blackcurrant jelly. Still, he forced them into a crouch as he moved closer, hands out and palms up. The light from Nelson's torch reflected off the dog's bared teeth. They weren't quite like a regular canine's, looking a bit more crystalline. But none of that changed the fact that they liked to chew rocks.
"What's wrong boy? I'm not gonna take your rock, you're okay."
Rascal was sitting on the ground, leaning up against the sack like figure. Getting closer, Earl saw that the mutt's stone was untouched. The stranger was covering his head with one hand. The long fingers of the other were gently stroking the Rascal's neck. From the happy way those emerald green eyes were squinting, Rascal wasn't unsatisfied with the development. Not in the least.
The scrawny man made a shushing sound, and the growling stopped. Even so, Earl crawled the last few steps towards them. Since he hadn't gotten his arm ripped off, he risked putting his hand on the man's shoulder. His skin was a deep almost wooden brown, and his leather gear was indeed Nontie made. By any shade of the imagination, he wasn't even close to being Agalian.
"Who's a good boy," Earl said praising the mutt.
"Not a boy, she's a girl now." The stranger's first words caught him completely off guard.
"What's that supposed to mean?" The wiry man just shrugged.
As Earl moved his long black hair to look him over, Rascal's sand-papery tongue licked the stranger's neck. The mob'd given him some nasty knocks. His nose and mouth were bleeding, and the bruise on the back of his neck was a bit worrying.
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"He's okay," Earl said to Rascal, "it could've been a lot worse."
Helping the man into a sitting position he asked, "so, who are you? You got a name?"
"Herschel I. Pensador."
"O-kay?" A bit too fancy for his liking. "What are you doing in Agalaland Herschel?"
The man's drooping head shook slowly, like he was confused. "I-I was going east?"
"Anywhere in particular?"
"Um, Eastwood? I think?"
Earl knew that forest as a place to stay out off, if you weren't fond of bandits, or was one of them. "Why would you want to go there?"
"I-I don't know? You should leave me here, I have to go."
That was all he could get out of the man, so Earl stretched out a hand to help him up. Putting Herschel's arm over his shoulder, he realised the stranger was a lot taller than he'd first guessed. He was about to explain that he was under arrest, but the excitement of standing was too much and the delicate stranger passed out in his arms. Like some fancy lady. Checking that Rascal was okay with the development, he lifted the man up on his shoulders. He weighed next to nothing. Herschel certainly hadn't been stuffing his gut with stolen chickens.
"Come on Nelson, maybe you can still be some help, we need to find my horse."
As they were walking away. Something made Earl turn and take a look at the scene. In the fading torchlight, he saw that Rascal'd left her rock behind.
Nelson wasn't much help, but he followed along with the torch while Earl searched. He knew Hoof-hearted wouldn't go far without him, and they found the horse grazing a few hundred meters from the hill. His whip was still attached to the saddle, but Ralph was gone.
"Looks like the real p-word got away," he joked to Nelson, scanning the surroundings. He wasn't convinced Ralph was smart enough to know when to quit.
Mounting up, Nelson helped him get the unconscious stranger in front of him in the saddle. Herschel groaned a bit and they both froze as Rascal whimpered. Earl'd never heard her whimper before. He'd seen her get hit with shots that would knock out a bull without as much as a sigh. But whimpering sounded wrong. After some squirming, he was soon in the saddle with this Nontie, Áettar, human, whatever he was, and they set off at a slow trot.
"Bye marshal," Nelson yelled after them. "I'm 'appy thin's worked out fer yer man in the end!"