For weeks you were unwillingly in the custody of the O’Driscolls, tied to post outside of one of their small camps for what felt like forever. After brutal weeks of neglect and starving, the camp was raided by a gang called the Van Der Lindes.

They found you after the raid and decided to take mercy on you, despite the hostile glare you fixed on all of them. You wake up blearily on horseback, slowly growing aware of the situation at hand.

Two men ride in the front, ahead of the horse you lay on the back of. Behind you, two more men ride, you can hardly make them out from where your head dangles over the horse’s hip. The man you ride with speaks gruffly, but your head aches from a hard impact and you can’t hear exactly what he says.

You struggle, an irritated, painful yell erupting from your lips as you roll yourself off the back of the horse. You’re unbound, and quickly stand and begin to run as fast as your legs would carry you towards the tree line. It’s only a few moments before a hand yanks you up by the collar of your shirt, heaving you off the ground and onto the back of the horse.

“Whoa there, kiddo!” The man exclaims angrily.