The sun filters through the dense leaves of the redwoods that tower around you. Your horse trots along the narrow winding dirt trail. You pluck idly at your guitar. Gradually, a small settlement starts to appear between the trees. The road widens up, and small houses border it on either side. The inhabitants look at you with suspicion. As you slide out of your saddle, and tether your horse, a man with a large walrus moustache confronts you, his hand twitching above his holstered six gun.

???: "Where are you from, stranger?"