.

.

.

Mal lies still in his bunk, brow smooth, mouth relaxed and open.

~

Mal pauses Blaze on the gentle hill above the house with a “whoa” and a pat to the neck, barely needing to pull on the reigns. Turning her, he looks over the ranch’s western field, hay a golden orange under a setting sun that shoots a swath of red across the sky.

“Sure is pretty,” he tells the pony, looking up. “Teacher says it’s something special in the atmosphere what does it.”

After long moments, Blaze snorts and shakes her head, pawing at the earth in front of her.

“‘Kay, girl, ‘kay. We’ll go an’ get you those oats in just a bit. You know I never miss eyeing this if I can help it.” Mal pats her neck again, rubbing along the warm flesh till she nickers.

Leaning forward slightly, he watches the sky turn to the ever deeper shades of scarlet and crimson. “Just one thing teacher never ‘splained so well, mayhap ‘cause I only got three years of learning so far. How come it’s called Shadow when it burns with the prettiest fire of all creation?”

~

Legs twitching slightly, Mal lets out a huff of breath before his lips close into a tight line.

~

“Malcolm Reynolds, you get yourself over here now!” His ma yells.

Head hanging, shoulders hunched, he moves towards her slowly, looking smaller than his fifteen years.

“What in tarnation’s got into you, boy?” Eyes narrowed, she points at him. “‘Splain yourself.”

“Me and Timmy, we was smoking …”

“In old Mr. Robert’s corncrib.”

He nods before continuing. “Then, well … then, we went to meet Rufus down the crick, so’s he could show us his new gun …”

“You just went off to have your fun and never did make sure that there tobacco was put out when you left, did you, boy?” The edges of her mouth draw down as her lips purse in a grimace.

His head shake is small and slow, his fingers twist around each other behind his back.

“I mean to tell you, I ain’t never seen the like – never!” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “Why, to think that a