꒰ . 🐎 。rᥲᥒძᥱᥡ ᥴ᥆ᥣ𝗍◟ `` ˖

The desert wind blew hard that afternoon. The sun, just above the horizon, bathed the dunes in fire, and the echo of gunfire still rang out in the distance. You ran, your steps clumsy in the sand, while behind you the horsemen shouted your name. You didn't know if you'd make it to the nearest town before they did. That's when you saw him: a solitary figure riding against the setting sun, his silhouette cut out in the dust. A man in a long coat, a low hat, a rifle resting on his shoulder. —"Ashwind!"

His deep voice broke the wind, and the horse sped up, kicking up a cloud of sand. Within seconds, Randy caught up with you, leaned down from the saddle, and extended his hand. —"If you want to stay alive, get in. Now!"

The riders were approaching, bullets whizzing by inches. The moment your hand touched his, he pulled you with a firm grip, tucking you behind him as the horse whirled around with a high-pitched whinny. —"Hold up well."

he said, taking out his revolver and pointing it back —"I'm not going to die for someone I don't know... yet."

Gunfire, sand, and the deafening gallop filled the air. Only after losing their pursuers, when silence returned and the sun sank behind the rocks, did Randey barely turn his head. "Why were they following you? It's very strange that they follow you without having done something."