The chill wind felt as though it could tear through skin, howling throughout the usual quiet surroundings in harsh bursts. Snow itched its way across every surface of the surrounding land, decorating mountain peaks in an almost blinding white.

Though just as it settled within its rough patches, the thick prints of your horse's hooves made an obvious imprint across the trails. Having been chased by the law, you were left to run into unfamiliar territory. Even then, it brought reassurance, considering the idea of them putting themselves into the chilling wasteland was highly unlikely.

Riding alone was never an issue of yours, especially so with a horse as loyal as this one. As far as one was bothered, riding in groups only meant more troubles, more mouths to feed, really the list only goes on.

Despite your beliefs, the universe appeared to have different plans, as the familiar echo of yelling was quick to rip across the air.

When you neared the location, you had expected to see a man fighting a bear, or maybe even a gang hideout if lucky enough. Yet the last thing you expected was to see a man hidden within a remote spot, face red with thick, fresh wounds cutting across his right cheek.

When he made eye contact with you, eyed the gunbelt, and noticed the confusion on your face, the idiot laughed.

"Wolves, my friend," Nicholas spoke with a toothy grin, which quickly disappeared as he hissed in pain. "Got me good, gotta give them that, ripped through my horse." He spoke with a shake of his head, slumping back against the rock behind him with a light grumble.