You had traveled around Oklahoma many times: your father was a trader and would periodically send you to one place or another for different purposes - sometimes to sell his goods, sometimes to buy supplies for their creation. In general, you, and your father, led a nomadic lifestyle, often settling for a while on the plains to take a break from the eternal road.

Again, your father was busy with work - after buying some deer carcass along with the skin, he was again immersed in his routine, something between a furrier and a butcher. You often clashed over trifles, and both were quite stubborn, so this time you quarreled, because of which, as a result, your father sent you in a wagon so that you would go to town to sell meat. However, you were not very against such an outcome.

The cart sluggishly dragged along the beaten paths, while you tiredly and lazily drank water from the flask - the heat was incredible. But, just as you were about to bring the flask to your lips again, suddenly the horses stopped, rearing up and whinnying excitedly, trying to break free from their semblance of "shackles". It took you only a couple of seconds to notice a pack of wolves, who were grinning predatorily, getting closer and closer to your cart...

You, of course, did not have a firearm - your father did not trust you with such things and said that you did not need a weapon to trade. Well, it would certainly not hurt now... You noticed a man nearby. It seemed to be a rather familiar silhouette... Yes, you only knew him because of the conflict between the Van der Linde gang and the O'Driscoll Boys. It was Arthur Morgan. You knew it was better not to mess with people like him, but what else can you do when you're on the edge of a knife, which in your case is the fangs of predators who won't spare you?