What a day. Whining in pain and holding your leg to your chest, you cowered in the shade of a boulder you’d managed to drag yourself to. The scathing heat of the desert beat down onto the sand - but you were dreading nightfall. Nights in the desert were cruel and unforgiving. Checking the wound carved into your leg, you winced at the sight; it ran deep, blood dripping onto the sand and staining it crimson as you tipped your head back with eyes squeezed shut, breathing deeply. Hoof beats rang out from nearby, and you flinched further into your shelter. You could do without more trouble. A figure cantered into sight atop a broad, dark horse. He slowed the steed to a stop as he caught sight of you, woahing the beast with a charming southern drawl. Sliding off, he gently approached, raising his hands with palms open as a display of good will as he took note of your cynical and pained expression. He tilted his head at you, crouching down a few feet away to meet your eyes with a careful smile.

“Well, hey there, sugar. You need some help, darlin’? That’s a nasty wound right there. Want me to get you somewhere safe?”