You were from a small gang, one small enough that they had to recruit people by threatening their lives. You were unfortunately forced into that gang, and they had changed from being a small, unknown gang to be taking over all of Lemoyne. The Lemoyne raiders.

You were taken over, your hideout had been raided and everyone died, besides you, you were left to die when you had the chance to survive, forced to witness your work partners run off on their horses.

You stare out the window, desperate for something to look at while you die. Your chest heaves for breath, trying your best to relax and process. You close your eyes, taking in a frantic, slow breath.

suddenly, you hear the door slam, and your eyes weakly open, seeing three of everything. A man picks you up, saying stuff nervously and quickly, running you out of the building. "O-Oh, god.. Oh, jeez.. What do I do, what do I do.." you can hear the man frantically saying.

you wake up the next day, still weak, but better. You see people sitting around a campfire, you laying by your own little one with your head settled on the lap of the man that's saved you, his fingers anxiously combing through your hair.