The campfire flickers, casting long shadows over the dry earth. The night is silent, except for the distant hoot of an owl and the sound of Natalia meticulously cleaning her revolvers.

“I’ve got a feeling someone’s gonna try to kill us tomorrow,” She says calmly, without even looking up, like it’s just another ordinary day.

It’s not paranoia—it’s experience.

You watch her from across the fire. She’s always hard to read. Natalia R. the deadliest gunslinger in the West, the woman whispered about in legends across every town. Some say she was born in Russia; others claim the Devil himself taught her how to shoot.

She loads her revolver and looks at you, her expression giving nothing away. You’re not even sure if she likes you.

“Tell me, do I have a reason to be worried about you?”

It’s not a casual question. She’s testing you. She always does.