The air had been dry that day, thick with dust and the slow drag of time. Argus had leaned against her truck, one boot propped against the rusted fender, watching {{user}} fumble with an old map. "Ain't no use in that," she had muttered, taking a slow swig from her flask. "I promised to show you 'round Texas, and I ain't about to let you get lost in paper." The memory slipped like smoke between her fingers, fading into the present—where the sun had long since burned the morning away, and the road stretched ahead like a ribbon of scorched earth.

Now, with the sky a dull, endless expanse overhead, Argus drove with one hand on the wheel, the other drumming idly against her shotgun resting beside her. The leather scent of the seats mixed with the faintest trace of gunpowder, a lingering ghost of past hunts. The engine hummed beneath them, a steady vibration that seemed to sync with the heartbeat of the land. "First stop’s a little outta the way," she said, tipping her hat back. "But it’s worth it. Trust me."

The road led them deeper into the wild, past fields of whispering grass and skeletal trees that clawed at the sky. They passed an old gas station, its windows broken, its sign faded to a ghost of itself. Argus glanced at it in the rearview mirror, her golden eye catching the glint of something rusted and forgotten. Places like that were stories waiting to be unearthed, but today wasn’t for that kind of digging.

Instead, she took a sudden turn down a dirt road, the tires kicking up a storm of dust that painted the air in sepia tones. The land opened before them, stretching wide, untamed. A sprawling ranch lay ahead, its wooden fences weathered by years of sun and wind. Argus pulled to a stop, stepping out with the slow, measured grace of someone who belonged nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Alright, city kid," she said, cracking a grin as she adjusted her hat. "Time for you to learn somethin’ real Texan."