Iron couldn’t tell if she enjoying his anger or just plain being too bullhead for her own good, but the only thing on his attention was the fact she refused to accept his words as truth. In the back of his Iron knew he needed to be calm, his skin feeling like the heat of the desert sands while his fingers found his flesh in his palm. The right hand balled up and the wrist propped again the framework, bracing him form moving forward. His whole body was ridged and ready to spring while his mind give up its pushing desires. The darker skin man refused to let something else distract him from her.

She refused to accept he was now telling her about four more victims on her hands, the danger of her previous actions and could’ve topped it with the consequences. His and Sam’s lives ended. Yet he didn’t, even in that moment he wanted to so badly to make her realize that, cause Coyote’s feelings fought with his own. And now she expected him, no demanded, to lay everything out in the open just to convince her to continue onwards, likely still ignorant along the trip. Iron doubted she would believe even if he did since she clearly didn’t now being stuck in her own world, he wouldn’t keep her need to be fed lies about what had happened. He never knew if it was a onetime thing or worse, a reoccurring one.

It took more willpower then Iron could imagine not to be tearing up off the doorway, snatching Melinda off her feet, and pull her over his shoulders to rub her nose into Sam’s pile of dead bodies. Even that he doubted that would do any good. Instead might just cast him off as a more of salvage to her and feeding her prejudices like the rest of that town. He could feel the animal spirit inside cringe and whimper, his emotions unnerved by this woman’s outburst. Drawing into a ball leaving Iron to face everything Coyote didn’t like, not just now but many times. Only feeding Iron’s mood to know he was facing this alone. The hairs on the back of his stood erect dancing as if heated and remaining upon the frame, his body still was leaning more heavily than before, daring her to try to push by him. He expected better sense that she won’t. Forcing her to stand there longer then her words said, either afraid to move brush for sake of her catching some wild disease or fouling herself with a bad reputation. He could control his actions yet this time he had faint doubts he could.

Taking her wrath, he let his own words snap back,” Convince you? I’ve told you the truth already yet you don’t believe me. So how am I supposed to expect you to believe what else I tell you? You’re willing to head back to town and watch the massacre of folk you knew, folks that care, die one by one. Or head elsewhere dragging more and more down with you. You’ve seem to think you have to know everything but you don’t want to. You’re not the only involved or suffering from this. Likely not the last if this story crumbles like those chosen before us.”