The setting sun softly illuminated The Heartlands’ prairies, still warming the earth.

John gripped the reins tighter, his boots spurs jabbing at his horse's flanks urging it to run faster. Faster, faster.

The horse whined, as John pulled out his lasso, his eyes fixed on {{user}}, who was running barefoot on the grass, away from the cowboy.

That was just a game, John was a hunter and {{user}} was his prey, but the thrill was real.

John whistled loudly and raised the lasso ready to catch, his horse started circling {{user}}, almost cornering him.