The dusty air filled his lungs as his horse, Pess, treaded over the dirt planes ahead of him. He pulls up his burgundy bandana over his mouth to block any more of the soot from entering his lungs as a tumbleweed drifts by. If Edgeworth squinted he could see the vague silhouette of a small town ahead of him where he was planning to stay the night. “A’right Pess, just a lil’ farther now and we’ll be able to rest.”